


Forever And A Day

by delightful_fear



Series: RMS Titanic [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Never Met, M/M, New York City (1912), RMS Titanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightful_fear/pseuds/delightful_fear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the fall of 1912, and Titanic Survivor Blaine Anderson is on a train going across the country, trying to deal with his grief.  After going to a cemetery to say his final goodbyes, he makes a surprising discovery...<br/>(An Alternative Ending to the RMS Titanic fic, 'A Drop In The Ocean'.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was always the noise that was the most terrifying. The sound of crashing, glass breaking, water rushing forward, wood cracking and the metal groaning under the pressure. It seemed to come from every direction, leaving no place to escape it. The feel of the ship shuddering below them as it was overwhelmed by the power of all the water, ripping it apart. The groan of the metal increasing and increasing in pitch, until it matched the screams of the hundreds of passengers.

That sound always seemed to linger in Blaine's ears when he woke up, shaking and heart pounding, breathing fast and sweat dampening his hairline. He could only close his eyes tight, and just concentrate on the next breath, trying to slow it down. _In...slowly...now out...slowly..._

Eventually, his breathing and heart rate went back to normal and the terrible dream faded, for now at least. It had been four months, and he still woke, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, several times each week.

A soft hand squeezed his forearm, and he opened his eyes to look at the elderly woman to his left. She passed him a cotton handkerchief with a kind smile, and he accepted it with a small nod. He wiped his face, straightening in his seat, and hesitated to offer the damp cloth back to her. 

"Don't worry, dear. Keep it." She patted his arm, and looked back at her book, giving Blaine the privacy he needed to wake up fully and get his bearings. 

Looking out the window, it was hard to tell how long he'd been napping. Tall pine trees rushed past the train windows, with occasional openings revealing a clear blue lake or river gorge. Places he'd never seen before.

"We will be in Helena in about an hour." His neighbor volunteered.

Blaine looked over and nodded in appreciation. 

She was likely in her seventies, but dressed well in a deep purple dress and her wispy silver hair in a tidy bun. Her eyes were her most striking feature, a deep blue-green shade, and lively with intelligence. 

"Forgive me for being so forward, but it seemed like you were having a very bad dream before." Her eyes were kind and concerned.

Blaine closed his briefly, and then nodded. He met her gaze, and gave a tiny shrug. "I'm a Titanic survivor." 

Her eyes widened, and she squeezed his forearm. It was rare to meet a male survivor. So few men had made it. He could see the questions she wanted to ask, but didn't want to overstep. 

"I was knocked unconscious, injured, but ended up in a lifeboat with a family friend. My father and my spouse died in the tragedy." All these months didn't make that easier to say, and his voice wobbled at the end.

Her warm hand stroked along the sleeve of his suit. "Oh, you are far too young to be a widower. Were you married long?"

Blaine shook his head quickly a couple times, looking out the window as he dabbed the handkerchief at his eyes. 

"I was married fifty-one years, and I've been a widow now for three. I miss my Walter still everyday. But it's eased now to having his response to certain situations pop into my mind." She gave a little smile.

Blaine looked back at the senior questionly, not really understanding what she meant.

She shrugged. "He was a straight shooter, with a dry humor. I can hear what he'd say to you right now, even."

Blaine let out a little chuckle. She was proving to be an interesting seat companion. "What would he have said to me?"

"Be thankful for the time you had together. And don't be afraid to move on and live your life." Her eyes seemed to glow as she said it.

Nodding, Blaine agreed with the comments. But it was still hard. Hard to get a good nights sleep when bad dreams woke him up. Hard to get the energy to get up and do things each morning. Hard to live in a world that didn't have Kurt in it.

It had been Kitty's idea to take this trip. He had been in the hospital so long, and then home consoling his mother in her grief, never able to talk about the loss of Kurt with her. Everyone took his demeanor as a reaction to the tragedy and mourning his father. Guilt over being a survivor, especially a male survivor. 

Kitty had been incredible from the start. Visiting him daily in the hospital, and then at his home. They sat in the garden, and when he healed enough, went for long walks. She was the only one who knew about Kurt, although he never revealed his name or that they had handfasted. It was enough that she knew he'd lost his love. They helped each other, the talks always flavored by the fact they had both survived. Both seen and lived through that horrible night.

"Are you from Montana?" His neighbor seemed determined to get him talking, maybe to pull him out of his sad mood.

Blaine shook his head. "No, I'm from New York. I visited with my brother's family in San Francisco and I'm taking the long route home."

"No rush to get back to family or work in New York?" Her eyes were quite perceptive. 

Thinking back on New York, he could clearly picture his mother's face and Kitty. 

"They encouraged me to make it a long trip, knowing I needed time to myself, time to think." Blaine said softly. Kitty had told him not to hurry back. His mother had a good support network of friends, many of them widows too. She was doing OK.

The hotel was doing better than ever, and he felt very confident leaving it under his new managers. When he was still in the hospital, feeling overwhelmed by his injuries, grief and all his new responsibilities, Kitty had suggested getting some help with the hotel, at least for a while.

Thinking over friends of his past, he had reached out to Jeff and Nick, who he'd known since prep school. They had jumped at the opportunity, their business degrees a good background, but their natural skills helped them run the hotel as a perfect team. Jeff did well with paperwork and numbers, Nick with managing the staff and customers. And they loved the perk of getting their own rooms to live in, with discrete adjoining doors.

It had been such a relief to leave New York for the long ride to San Francisco. The motions of the train lulled him as he watched the scenery from his window. 

Of course, his thoughts were often on Kurt, discretely wiping the tears up with his handkerchief as he went over every second with him. Thought of his grey-blue eyes, his pale perfect skin, and his full lips that so often smirked at Blaine. Or kissed him senseless. Thought of all the stories of his life, trying to imagine travelling all over the country, Vaudeville theatre to Vaudeville theatre. After going all the way to California, Blaine had a new respect for the size of the country.

He gave himself the time to grieve. To honor their love, their loss and all the dreams they had started to plan for a future together that would never happen now.

\---

Blaine was thankful for the darkened theatre as he wiped away the tears that streamed down his face with a damp handkerchief. Although he laughed and gasped in wonder with the various acts along with the rest of the audience, the tears still came. And he let them.

Vaudeville theatres were where he felt the shadowy presence of Kurt the most. It was somewhere like this where he'd first seen Kurt, first talked and kissed and more. But they were also the places Kurt had worked for so many years, perfecting his craft. With every act that came onstage, he could imagine Kurt taking on a role. 

The next act was introduced and the curtain pulled back to reveal a female impersonator. She was in a blond wig with a deep pink dress, and strutted around the stage, her voice and mannerisms hardly convincing at all. Kurt would have blown her out of the water. But the act made Blaine cry into his handkerchief, feeling so alone and desperately sad. He had to leave to go back to the hotel, huddling under the covers. 

Rolling onto his back, he wiped his wet face with the corner of the sheet. He had been dipping his toes in, testing his pain, his grief. It was time to jump in fully. He was tired of doing this, being this way. He was going to face it, and either he could handle it or not. 

The next morning he booked his train tickets to Lima, Ohio. 

\---

Arriving late at night, Blaine didn't have much of a chance to see the town before checking into his hotel and falling asleep. His body seemed so drained lately, dealing with his grief, or maybe just giving his overwrought emotions a rest with some deep sleep. Luckily, the Titanic nightmare stayed away that night. 

He awoke early, feeling disorientated at first, but it all came back soon. Thinking back on their conversations, he tried to remember places Kurt had mentioned, wanting to make sure he had a chance to see them today.

After a light breakfast, he headed out in the direction the concierge had sent him and was soon at the cemetery. He found the grave of Kurt's mother, Elizabeth Marie Beauchamp Hummel. Not very far away was the one for his stepbrother, Finn Hudson, who had died so young.

Sitting down on the grass, Blaine clutched his bent knees and lowered his head. It was so disappointing that his father hadn't put a headstone for Kurt here. Something tangible as a remembrance. 

Pulling out the long silk floral scarf from his pocket, Blaine wrapped it around and around his hand. "Mrs. Hummel, Kurt and I used your scarf to help seal our bond. I've been carrying it with me every day since he gave it to me, and every time I reach into my pocket, I feel the silk and it reminds me of him. It reminds me of our love, our promise, and the feel of his smooth skin. I know you loved him. I loved him too."

Blaine looked up at the cloudy sky, blinking his eyes to keep from crying again. It was getting to the point of acceptance now. He had cried his tears, come to peace with the idea. He would never forget Kurt, forget their love, but their loss was not a burning pain in his chest anymore. It had cooled to a constant ache, a deep loneliness and emptiness. 

He felt a bit better as he walked back, his fingers rubbing against the silk scarf tucked back into his pocket. 

Taking a slightly different route, he ended up walking past a long, tall brick wall, with lots of clanging and mechanical sounds coming from the other side. Reaching an opening in the wall, there was an entranceway with 'Lima Locomotive and Machine Works' on its signage. Blaine's breath caught, and he stared at the sign, unable to move.

"Can I help you, son?" An older man walked near him, wearing coveralls and a dark cap.

Blaine stepped back in surprise. "Oh....um, is Mr. Hummel here today?" He said the first thing that came to mind.

The man nodded. "Sure thing. Wait here, I'll send him to the gate."

And before Blaine could say anything, the man turned and walked into the rail yard. Blaine thought of calling him back and telling him to forget it, but he didn't act fast enough.

Shifting from foot to foot nervously, Blaine watched as men walked nearby, wondering if each one would be Kurt's father, and what he would look like. Tall, fair-skinned and slim like Kurt, but older? And what would Blaine say to explain himself? _I was curious to meet you because you are my dead husband's father. But I don't want anything from you..._

What did he want? Why was he here? Blaine felt more and more nervous as he waited. 

Eventually, a middle-aged man with a baldhead walked towards Blaine, wiping his greasy hands with a rag, a questioning expression on his face. "Were you asking to see me?"

Swallowing hard with his nerves, Blaine held out his hand and hoped his voice was steady. "Mr. Hummel, I am Blaine Anderson. I knew your son, Kurt."

He did pretty well, until he said Kurt's name out loud. He hadn't said it to anyone else before. And as Mr. Hummel shook his hand, giving him a curious perusal, Blaine blinked rapidly, trying to keep tears from escaping.

"Hmmm...Is that so? Well, I wouldn't take you for a Vaudevillian, Mr. Anderson." Mr. Hummel did not look much like Kurt. He was average height and a stockier build. His large green eyes seemed kind though.

Blaine let out a small laugh. "No, I'm a businessman. I knew Kurt from The Titanic." 

Understanding was in Mr. Hummel’s eyes then, and Blaine felt bad for bringing up bad memories. Suddenly, his emotions already so on the edge, got the better of him. He scrambled to pull his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe at his eyes.

He didn't notice that the floral scarf had slipped out of his pocket also. Mr. Hummel stepped forward and picked it up, looking down at the material a long time, before handing it back to Blaine.

"I'd like to talk with you more, Mr. Anderson. Would you like to come back to my house for some lunch? Just something simple like sandwiches?" Mr. Hummel was looking at Blaine closely. 

Still feeling a bit emotional, Blaine just nodded and walked along with the older man when he nodded back. 

They moved from the industrial part of the town into a residential area, walking silently side by side, and gradually, the stirred-up emotions and tension in Blaine eased down. He could breathe easier, and was grateful to the older man for giving him this time to collect himself. 

Reaching a small, tidy family home, Mr. Hummel went up to the front door and opened it. 

"Hey, it's just me. And I brought someone along for lunch." Mr. Hummel called out towards the kitchen, as he undid his shoes.

Blaine bent down to untie his laces, following Mr. Hummel's example.

"Dad, you should have warned me so I could have made more soup." A voice called back, a very distinctive voice Blaine had been hearing in his memories and dreams for months. A voice he never thought he'd hear again.

\---

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I think I will do three alternative endings for the fic. This is the first one and looks like it will 2-3 chapters long. 


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine felt shell-shocked, frozen. Barely able to breathe. Had he just imagined that?

"Come on, son. Let's get you on the chesterfield before you fall over." Mr. Hummel guided Blaine to the sofa, his eyes taking in his pale skin and wide eyes. "Wait here a second."

Walking into the kitchen, Blaine could only hear some soft voices talking.

And then, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, was him. Kurt. Wide-eyed, rumpled hair and casual clothes, chest heaving like he'd run a mile.

Even after hearing his voice, Blaine still couldn't believe he was seeing him now. They both were frozen, gawping at each other, for several long heartbeats.

And then Kurt let out a stifled sob and was rushing towards him. Blaine stood up, taking a few steps, before Kurt crashed into his arms. Warm, vibrant, alive.

The world shrunk down to just this incredible man in his arms, and Blaine held him tight, his face tucked into his neck. Kurt, his body feeling perfect against him, his scent the same underlying mix of his shampoo, soap and whatever else made it so distinctly Kurt, mixed in with softer scents of the food he had been preparing. Blaine realized Kurt was shuddering against him, and he ran soothing hands up and down his back. Kurt was sobbing against him, and it didn't take much for Blaine to join him.

They sunk down onto the couch, arms still wrapped around each other like they may never let go, both crying. The emotions ran high, but eventually, they both eased off.

Kurt pulled back first, his large eyes red from the tears, wiping away the wetness on his cheeks with his hands as he looked at Blaine in wonder. Blaine gave him a wobbly smile back, wiping at his own face.

Kurt lifted a hand, cupping it along Blaine's jaw. His eyes went down to Blaine's lips, and then he leaned in closer, the lightest of kisses.

Blaine shook against him, his hands coming up to cup the back of Kurt's head. "I still can't believe it's you. Here. With me. Kurt."

"Me neither." Kurt whispered back, before dipping his head to give Blaine a proper kiss, long, deep and perfect. A kiss he had been dreaming of.

The sound of a cupboard door closing loudly made them stop, and jump back from each other slightly, finally aware of more than just the two of them.

"Kurt, I packed up a sandwich and an apple for my lunch and think I'm just going to wander over to the river to eat it there. Give you and your friend some time to catch up." Burt stepped into the living room from the kitchen, holding a paper bag.

He walked over to the front door and was doing up his shoes. "Mr. Anderson, I hope you will join us for supper. I'm sure my wife would like to meet you."

Kurt reached over and gave Blaine's hand a squeeze.

"Um... Yes, I'd like that, Mr. Hummel." Blaine said quickly.

Kurt's father looked between his glowing son and the man whose hand he was holding. "Please, call me Burt." He gave a little half-smile, and was gone.

With the click in the door shutting, Kurt launched himself at Blaine, pushing him back on the sofa to lie of top of him, sharing long, deep kisses until Blaine felt dizzy from lack of breath and pure happiness.

Sitting up slightly, he chuckled at the whining noise of complaint Kurt let out. "Kurt, this is incredible but I need to know what happened. I'm so confused."

Kurt pouted a bit, but he let Blaine sit up and make himself comfortable before scooting close and draping his legs over his lap and his arms around Blaine's shoulders loosely.

Sighing, Kurt dipped his face to Blaine's shoulder. "Well, OK, but only because I'm curious too."

"How did you survive? Last I saw you was when we got pulled apart by the crowd on the deck." Blaine had that image burned in his memory. Holding hands tightly, but losing their grip as the people pressed around them in all sides, panicked. Kurt's wide, blue eyes as he reached towards Blaine, trying to grasp his hand again, before being swept away with the crowd.

Nodding, Kurt bit his lip. "By then, most of the lifeboats were gone, and people realized they weren't going to have space for everyone. Real panic went through the crowd and I had to fight to move away from them and catch my breath. I looked for you, but couldn't see you anywhere."

Blaine stroked along Kurt's shoulder, trying to ease the tension he could feel in him at bringing up the awful memories. "I was looking for you too, trying to fight my way through the crowd."

"And then the ship started to really shift, you could tell it was being torn apart." Kurt's eyes were distant, reliving that night. "I was near a railing and there was a big lurching motion. I was suddenly in the water, and it was so, so cold."

Blaine was surprised, and nodded, wanting Kurt to continue.

"I'm a good swimmer, so I headed over to a deck chair that was floating nearby. It wasn't buoyant enough to support me fully, but I put it under my chest and swam over and found another one. Eventually, I had three deck chairs and I was a fair distance from the ship. It was really wobbly, but somehow I stacked them together and got on top." Kurt explained, playing with Blaine's shirt button.

Blaine was impressed at his actions. "No one else tried to take your chairs?"

Shaking his head, Kurt looked down. "By the time the ship sank, most people ended up in the ocean a fair distance from me. Many weren't good swimmers, and the cold water took most of them."

They held each other tight then, knowing it could so easily have been them.

"Somehow, I eventually ended up on a lifeboat. A lot of things are pretty hazy in my memories. The nurse at the hospital said it was due to the hypothermia." Kurt shrugged.

Blaine hugged him closer, kissing his cheek, his neck. It was incredible that Kurt had survived. "But I looked and looked at the lists of survivors in the newspapers, and never saw your name." He'd also checked the lists of dead people, cringing each time.

Kurt chuckled, rubbing his hands over his face and giving Blaine a find look. "That's because I ended up in a lifeboat with Charlie the Baker, and he must have given them my working name, Marcel Lapointe."

Blaine's eyes widened in understanding. He hadn't thought to check under the name Marcel. And Charlie the Baker was famous in the newspapers for a while. He had been a little drunk when the ship sank, but had stayed alive by treading water until the Carpathia came, about two hours later.

Giving his shoulder a little nudge, Kurt looked down at Blaine, his eyes serious again. "What about you? You weren't in the lists either. I read that Kitty and her mother survived, and that your father didn't, but no mention of you."

"I was in the hospital for so long, I don't really know what happened. Didn't realize I wasn't in there." Blaine said softly, feeling bad at Kurt's distress. All of this could have been prevented, so much angst and depression avoided.

Kurt's hands went over Blaine's shoulders. "How were you injured?"

Taking Kurt's hand, Blaine pressed it to a place a few inches from his left ear, under his hair. "Can you feel the bump there? Nurse said my skull was cracked and I'll always have this to remember it by."

"That must have been a hard hit to your head." Kurt said softly, his eyes concerned.

Blaine nodded. "I lost my footing when the boat lurched, and slid along the deck, trying hard to grab hold of anything. My leg whacked into something hard, and a little later, I crashed into something else and must have been knocked out."

Kurt's eyes were enormous. "What happening then?"

"Kitty said my father brought me to their lifeboat and begged for them to take me, take care of me." Blaine said, and then tucked his face into Kurt's neck. This time, his tears came for his father and his final actions. It was hard to reconcile what happened with the man Blaine had known, the loving gesture in his last moments with the detached man he had travelled with. Somehow, it made him grieve even harder, grieve for the man who he'd never gotten to know well enough. Had his father been satisfied that he'd saved his son and then turned to face his own death alone?

When Blaine had settled again, Kurt was stroking his back idly. "I still wonder that you weren't in the survivor lists though. Kitty and Mrs. Wilde would have given your name correctly."

Blaine shrugged, not sure of the answer. The disaster had been a chaotic time for so many, it was a wonder that he was able to get into a hospital and get the care he needed.

Shifting on the sofa, he gave Kurt a small smile. "Um, is there a washroom I could use?"

Kurt got off the sofa, holding a hand out to Blaine. "We're not as fancy as the Titanic or your hotel out here, I'm sorry to say. There's an outhouse in the backyard."

Nodding, Blaine got up and pressed a small kiss to Kurt's cheek as he passed.

When he got back to the kitchen, Kurt was bustling around. "I'm making some tea and reheating the soup. Have you had lunch?"

Shaking his head, Blaine smiled at the domestic scene and carried cutlery over to the kitchen table and set it out. They ate in comfortable silence, sharing many long looks and small smiles, the reality of everything really settling in.

After lunch, Blaine helped Kurt do the dishes and tidy up.

Smiling, Kurt took Blaine's dishtowel from his hands and hung it up to dry. He took Blaine's hand, and drew him out of the kitchen, past the living room, and up the stairs.

"Are you sure this is OK, Kurt?" Blaine whispered, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Kurt chuckled. "It's just us here now." He led Blaine into a small room with a single bed. "It's not much, but this is my room."

"It's perfect." Blaine said before pulling Kurt close. A private space with Kurt and a bed. It was heaven.

Their kisses were hungry and frantic, their desire having slowly built up as they were kissing and talking earlier. They were both impatiently stripping themselves and each other, just needing to be naked, skin on skin. The bed was narrow, but they didn't mind crowding close, naked and wrapped up together.

They were too aroused for any finesse, and when Kurt's hand wrapped around Blaine's erection, he quickly returned the favor. Quick strokes as they kissed, looking into each other's eyes, breaths intermingling. It didn't take long until they found their release, chuckling as Kurt reached for his undershirt to clean them up.

"I love you so much, Kurt." Blaine sighed, feeling completely truly happy for the first time since their last fateful day together.

Kurt's eyes glowed back with shared happiness. "I love you too, my dear sweet Blaine." He tucked his face against his chest, cuddling close. "So, what are you doing in Lima anyways?"

Blaine sighed, running his hands along the smooth skin of Kurt's back. Was it only a few hours ago that he was crying at Kurt's mother's grave over her son? It felt like weeks ago. "Mourning you, really. I was in the hospital for so long, and then busy trying to manage the hotel and the house. Taking care of everything my father had left behind, including my mother. I hardly had time to process everything that had happened."

Kurt nodded, pressing a small kiss over Blaine's heart. "It must have been overwhelming."

"Yes, and everyone thought I was down at times from the death of my father and the Titanic, but so much of it was about you. Missing you so desperately and not able to talk about you. Only Kitty kind of understood, although she didn't know the details." Blaine sighed.

Kurt looked up, his blue eyes meeting Blaine's hazel ones. "But how were you able to get away?"

Blaine explained getting Jeff and Nick's help at the hotel, and the trip to visit his brother. "Kitty encouraged me to take the time I needed. She knew I needed to mourn you."

"Are you engaged now? It sounds like she is helping you make so many decisions." Kurt asked with a neutral tone, but Blaine could sense the tension in his body. Kurt cared about the answer.

Blaine kissed him lightly, slowly. "I asked her to hold off until April before we make any plans." His eyes were on Kurt's. "I felt committed still to you... A year and a day..."

With a small cry, Kurt rolled over Blaine, cupping his face to kiss him thoroughly. Blaine wrapped his arms and legs around Kurt, kissing him back just as hard. Just needing to be close and to show his feelings hadn't changed. If anything, they were stronger than ever.

"Living without you these past few months, thinking you were dead, it was like I was half-dead, Blaine." Kurt said softly, tracing his fingers over Blaine's kiss-swollen lips. "More than ever, I know that I can't live without you."

This led to another bout of intense kissing, but eventually, Kurt rolled to the side and reached for his pocket watch, groaning at the time. "Everyone will be home soon. We better stop and make ourselves presentable."

Blaine took the watch from Kurt's hand, looking at it in wonder. "My watch still works, after being soaked in the ocean all that time?"

Kurt took it back with a chuckle and kissed it. "It needed some work at the watchmakers, but it's doing fine." He got out of bed and started getting dressed, much to Blaine's dismay.

"Kurt, is there any way you could come back to my hotel room tonight?" Blaine would have a hard time being separated from him again. He reached for his clothes and sat on the side of the bed to pull them on.

Picking up a comb from the dresser, Kurt combed Blaine's hair back into place, and then turned to the mirror to do his own. "I don't know, Blaine. I'm very, very tempted, but this is a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and it's impossible to keep secrets."

Blaine nodded, disappointed but understanding. "Could we go out to a show after dinner together?"

Kurt's eyebrows rose. "At the Vaudeville theatre? I know a lot of people there, Blaine."

"So, introduce me as a friend and we'll sit in the back row. I'll behave, I promise." Blaine went for puppy dog eyes, pure innocence.

Rolling his own eyes, Kurt pulled Blaine off the bed. "Hmmmm....we'll see."

\---

They had gone to the Vaudeville theatre after dinner, and Kurt had introduced him as a friend visiting from New York. In the back row, Blaine had held his hand, his thumb gliding back and forth over his soft skin.

By the time the show ended, Blaine begged softly for Kurt to come back to his room for a bit. They had to do it discretely, entering separately. But once behind closed doors, they were naked in seconds. Hands and mouths were all over bared skin, touching, kissing and relearning. It didn't take long until they were lying under the sheets, limbs tangled and breathing going back to normal.

"Can you get away for a bit, Kurt?" Blaine asked, slightly embarrassed he hadn't asked Kurt what he was doing lately. "Do you have a job here?"

Kurt grinned, rolling over onto his back. "I've been working a little at the theatre on a casual basis, and helping around the house. I came here in April and nobody has pressured me to do much. My dad knew it was more than just the Titanic tragedy, but I didn't mention you."

Blaine took his hand, pressing a little kiss to the palm. "My family has a little cabin in upstate New York. It's really pretty this time of year, the trees turning colors and the lake..."

"What do you have in mind?" Kurt asked, his heart beating faster.

Blaine kissed the tip of each of Kurt's fingers lightly. "I was thinking we could have a week or two there, just the two of us, away from prying eyes. Time to get to know each other again, cook good food, go on long walks. There's a canoe and lots of nature. A fireplace and lots of books. A big comfy bed-"

Kurt cut off Blaine's words with a hard kiss, and leaned back, laughing. "You had me at 'books'."

Chuckling, Blaine cuddled him close. "Ahhh....now I know your weakness. Can we catch a train around noon tomorrow? Is that enough time for you to get ready?"

Nodding, Kurt captured his lips in a deep, long kiss, feeling happiness bubbling through him like the bubbles in champagne.

\---

It was late and fully dark out by the time Kurt got home. The house was quiet, so he jumped when he heard a noise from the sofa.

"Kurt, come sit with me a minute." His father's voice was scratchy. He'd likely been napping as he waited up for Kurt.

Knowing this talk was going to be awkward, but also knowing there was no way out of it, Kurt reluctantly sat down beside his father.

Burt's eyes looked over Kurt thoroughly, taking in his flushed cheeks, his bright eyes, his swollen mouth and slightly mussed hair and clothing. Kurt blushed slightly under his gaze, and Burt nodded in understanding.

"Tell me about Blaine, Kurt. You never mentioned him in your letters to me." His voice was soft, not angry. Resigned.

Kurt's eyes rose to his father's, searching for the right words. "We only met briefly in Paris, and it was a surprise to see him on the Titanic." Funny to think they were together less than a week back then, everything added up. A week that changed his whole life.

"But you love him, and he loves you." Burt said, firmly.

Kurt tilted his head slightly, surprised at the words. He thought they had hid their feelings fairly well at dinner. "Um...I...um..."

Burt sighed, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I knew it within five minutes of meeting Blaine. You wouldn't have given your mother's scarf to just anyone. And I have the feeling his middle initial is 'D'."

Chuckling, Kurt pulled out the pocket watch, looking at Blaine's initials engraved inside and running a fingertip over them. "My father is a very wise man."

"That he is. So, how is this going to work, the two of you? I like him, Kurt, but you know things aren't easy." Burt's eyes were steady, concerned.

Kurt looked up at the ceiling, thinking, gathering his thoughts. "Blaine inherited a hotel from his father in New York. There is a possibility he could marry a society woman who is aware of me, and we could be together in many ways."

Even explaining this to his father made it feel cheap and sordid. Like he would Blaine's piece on the side, living in the shadows.

"Do you think you would be happy living like that?" Burt's eyebrows rose.

Kurt shrugged. "It's just one possibility. We are going away tomorrow for a week or so to discuss things, look at the options."

Burt was quiet for a minute, and then he gave a small laugh. "You are a man of twenty-five, and haven't lived at home for many years, and my gut reaction just now was to forbid your leaving and ground you for a month."

Kurt chuckled too. "Dad, I know you are feeling even more protective of me since Titanic. But that tragedy taught me how quickly your life can be snatched away. How important it is to find real love and happiness and hold into them tight with both hands."

Burt gathered Kurt into a long, tight hug. "I know, Kiddo. It will just be hard to see you go again so soon."

\---

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Hypothermia: Someone with hypothermia often has symptoms of slurred speech or mumbling, confusion and poor decision-making, such as trying to remove warm clothes, drowsiness or very low energy, lack of concern about one's condition and progressive loss of consciousness. 

Charles John Joughin was the chief baker aboard the RMS Titanic. He was off duty when he felt the iceberg hit the ship, and when he heard they were preparing the lifeboats, he sent his thirteen bakers up with provisions for the lifeboats, about forty pounds of bread each. He then helped with loading passengers into lifeboats, including forcibly grabbing women and children to throw into lifeboats if they foolishly thought the Titanic was safer than the lifeboats. After that, he went to his quarters and drank about half a tumbler-full of alcohol, and later went to B deck to throw about fifty deck chairs into the water to act as floatation devices. When the ship sank, he kept paddling and treading water for about two hours. He admitted to hardly feeling the cold, most likely thanks to the alcohol he had imbibed. (Large quantities of alcohol generally increase the risk of hypothermia - but there is also evidence to suggest that a certain level of alcohol can slow down heat loss and prolong survival in cold conditions.) Eventually, he was put on one of the collapsible lifeboats with only swollen feet. He continued to work on other ships until the end of WWII, and died at the age of 78.

Indoor plumbing became more common after WWI (in the 1920's) in working class homes.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine looked around the loud, crowded pub, trying to find Kurt. Sighing, it was hard to spot him amongst all the other men, so many wearing caps and hats. Blaine was just about to start walking around the whole bar to take a closer look at each table when he felt a tingle of awareness. Looking to his right, he saw Kurt’s blue-grey gaze on him, a slight smirk on his lips. 

Returning his look with a slightly embarrassed one of his own, Blaine made his way through the crowd to Kurt’s table. Kurt smiled as he moved his coat off the chair he’d saved for him, tucking the coat on the back of his own chair. As always when he saw Kurt, he felt the surge of feelings and really, really wanted to kiss him hello. But this definitely would be the worst place for it. He settled for pulling his chair close to the table, just happening to rest his leg against Kurt’s. 

“Blaine, this is Oliver and Marguerite. I toured with them for about a year before I went over to England.” Kurt introduced the older couple, with a fond look. 

Shaking their hands, Blaine settled down to listen to their conversation. Every week, it seemed like Kurt had old friends coming through the city, and often Blaine joined the group over drinks or a meal. The conversation was always lively and he liked hearing more about Kurt’s past. 

“I can’t believe you are still doing that old doctor skit.” Kurt chuckled, taking a long sip of his beer. 

Oliver shrugged. “It still gets good laughs. And it’s easier to vary it depending on whoever the patient is. Nobody does a German character as well as your Ludwig, though.” He was likely in his late thirties, with thinning dark blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses. 

“Ludwig!” Blaine laughed, nudging Kurt’s shoulder. “You were doing the Ludwig character back that far?” 

Kurt glanced over at Blaine and then back at Oliver. “I’ve been doing that character for years.” 

Marguerite leaned forward towards Blaine. “Hmmmm… let’s see how well you know Kurt. Have you seen his Marcel? Ivan? Archie? Gino?” She was a very vivacious woman with her dark hair pinned up into a bun, a few years older than Kurt. 

Looking over at Kurt, Blaine shared a knowing glance with him. “Yeah, I’ve seen him do all those characters. Plus the Irish guy… And Nikita.” 

“Nikita?” Oliver arched an eyebrow at Kurt. 

Kurt just laughed in delight. “I really didn’t start doing female impersonations until I went to England. At first, it was in a comedic way, with badly applied makeup and ill-fitting clothes. By the time I was in Paris, I was a siren.” Lifting a shoulder, Kurt gave his old friends a coquette-ish look, big flirty eyes with fluttering eyelashes.

Marguerite laughed as she looked at Kurt assessingly. “I can totally picture you looking quite good with the right hair and make-up.”

“Oh honey, I looked fantastic. I still cry a little when I think of that trunk of gorgeous clothes that sunk with that damn ship.” Kurt grinned back. 

Blaine rubbed a hand on Kurt’s leg near his knee discretely under the table. It was still felt a little too soon to joke about the tragedy. Still seemed a little incredible every time he saw Kurt again, after thinking he hadn’t survived it for so many months. 

“I heard of a play they are casting you should try out for. Apparently it's a bit of a dark comedy with one man killing his family members, one by one, who lie between him and a Dukedom.” Oliver took off his eyeglasses and polished them with his handkerchief.

Kurt gave his old friend a laughing glance. “And you want me to play the killer? What does that say about me that you think I’d be good for that part?” 

Oliver put his glasses back on. “No, one of the best things about the production is that they are looking for one person to play all the victim roles. There’s a banker, a parson, a general, a young man, the old duke and even an old woman, from what I can recall.” 

Clapping her hands in delight, Marguerite leaned closer to pat Kurt’s arm. “I’ve seen you do characters like that, Kurt. You should try out for it.” 

Kurt shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I’m still getting used to living in New York, getting my connections with the various Vaudeville theatres set up. I really haven’t looked at going to auditions for plays or musicals.” 

Oliver nodded. “Marguerite and I can help you out. We’ve been in the business long enough to introduce you to a few people. But we really should act fast. This role would really be perfect for you.” 

Sipping on his beer, Kurt just gave a small nod and the conversation flowed onto different topics. 

\---

“Are you going to try out for that role Oliver mentioned?” Blaine asked as they walked along the dark city streets a few hours later. 

It took Kurt a minute to recall the topic. “Oh that. I don’t think so. I think of myself as more of a singer than an actor. I’ve really only done short skits here and there.” 

Blaine was a bit surprised at his response. “Kurt, you are a fantastic singer. But I’ve seen you slip into characters and keep them up for hours at a time. Weren’t you basically playing Marcel the whole time you worked on the Titanic? Everyone there thought you were French!” 

Sighing, Kurt pulled open the door to his apartment building and checked his mail. He started up the stairs, with Blaine walking right behind him. “I suppose so. But I don’t know much about auditioning for plays or any of that. I’ve never really considered going for a role.” 

“Well, it could be an interesting experience. And if you get the part, you would have steady work for a while. I think most plays have months of rehearsals, and then run for a few months as long as there are good ticket sales.” Blaine had gone to lots of plays over the years, but hadn’t really considered things from the actor’s point of view. 

Walking down the hallway, Kurt pulled out his key and unlocked his door. He flicked on the light as he entered, slipping off his coat to hang it on the coat rack before he went into the tiny kitchen to put the kettle on. One habit he had picked up from being with Paul a few years was his love of tea. By the time the tea was steeped, he had a tray ready with the milk and sugar, and some shortbread biscuits. 

Blaine was reading a magazine on the sofa, his coat also hung on the coat rack and his suit jacket draped over the back of a chair. He looked good in just his white dress shirt, with the top few buttons undone and his tie loosened.

Putting the tray down on the coffee table, Kurt sank down beside Blaine on the sofa and poured out the tea, quickly stirring in just a dash of milk before he passed the cup to Blaine. His own cup got a spoonful of sugar along with the milk. He settled back, cupping the warm drink with both hands. 

“Well, I like the idea of steady work.” Kurt commented, picking up the conversation from where it had ended a few minutes ago. 

Blaine nodded in perfect understanding as he sipped his tea. Kurt liked that they had reached this level of everyday comfort with each other, spending so much time together the past few weeks. He liked that Blaine just made himself comfortable in Kurt’s apartment, and knew it was OK to kick off his shoes and just be himself. Behind closed doors, they had the freedom to act like a true couple. 

Leaning closer, Kurt gave Blaine a kiss, tasting the unsweetened tea on his lips. He was tempted to go further, but that could wait a little while. They could have tea and talk first. But he still liked the flicker of arousal in Blaine’s gaze when Kurt pulled back from the kiss.

Blaine looked around the apartment. “I know you are doing OK for money, Kurt, but my offer for a loan is always there if you need it.” 

Kurt gave a little smirk before he hid it by taking another sip of his tea. Blaine knew better than to offer to pay for Kurt’s bills again. They had had a few arguments about it when they had first arrived in New York; spectacular fights with passionate make-up sex afterwards. Kurt had too much pride to allow Blaine to pay for things. Plus, Kurt had lived on his own for enough years to learn how to make his money go far, and to haggle for the rest. 

“I like the idea of having a steady job, so I don’t have to run around the city picking up short term jobs. It would be nice to just do a good days’ work, and then relax at home with a good book.” Kurt sighed, kicking off his shoes and tucking his feet up on the sofa to his side.

Blaine set his empty cup down on the tray, and urged Kurt to move his feet into his lap. Pulling off his socks, Blaine massaged Kurt’s feet with his strong fingers. Kurt shifted to lie back on the sofa, a pillow beneath his head, and savored the feel of Blaine’s touch. 

When Blaine stopped and pulled his hands away, Kurt glared playfully at him. “Why did you stop?” 

Chuckling, Blaine undid his tie and tossed it to the chair that held his suit jacket. “You had sore feet, so I rubbed them. I’m done now.” 

“But that’s not all that’s sore.” Kurt nudged Blaine’s thigh with one of his bare feet. 

“Oh really? What else is sore, my dear?” Blaine joked back, scanning over Kurt’s body slowly. 

Kurt scrunched his lips together for a minute. “My legs. I walked all over the place today.” 

Blaine nodded, and reached over to undo Kurt’s pants. Kurt helped him by lifting his hips off the sofa as Blaine pulled the trousers down and tossed them over to the chair. Kurt bent one knee to let one foot rest on the floor, the other still in Blaine’s lap. 

Working up from his ankle, Blaine took his time, kneading and stroking, working his way up Kurt’s calf. He scooted closer to properly reach Kurt’s thighs, following the long muscles with the firm press of his hands. Kurt closed his eyes, enjoying the slow, thorough touch of his lover. 

It reminded Kurt of those wonderful long days at Blaine’s family cabin. They had indulged themselves in every way. Sleeping in every morning, followed by long sessions of lazy morning sex. Only getting out of bed when they were too hungry to stay under the covers anymore. Cooking together while they sang at the top of their lungs, knowing there was nobody around for miles to hear them. Going for long hikes in the woods or exploring the lake in the canoe, before returning to the cabin. Drinking red wine in front of the fireplace while they cuddled and read books. Talking about everything and nothing. 

It was truly their honeymoon. Over a week of just having fun together, falling deeper and deeper in love. Hours of exploring each other’s bodies, touching and tasting. Teasing. Finally having the freedom to indulge themselves that way as well. 

Blaine knew how much Kurt was responding to his touch, but still kept up with his slow massage until both legs were done. “What is sore now? Your shoulders and your back?” 

Nodding, Kurt sat up and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, liking the hungry way Blaine watched as his skin was revealed. Really wanting to crawl over him to kiss him senseless, but knowing it would be even better, hotter, the longer they waited. 

In just his boxers, Kurt rolled over onto his stomach, shifting so his hard cock was pressed against the cushions. Blaine wasted no time straddling his thighs, and Kurt sighed as his hands worked along his neck and into his shoulders. He could feel the tight muscles loosening, not even realizing how tense he had been. As Blaine stroked over his back, his motions sometimes caused his hips to press against Kurt’s ass, a quick touch that had Kurt arching up for more. 

Finally, Blaine hand slid to the waistband of his boxers, and Kurt arched upwards, lifting his hips of the sofa. Blaine shifted off Kurt’s legs as he pulled the last article of clothing off, running an appreciative hand over his ass. Getting up, Blaine quickly stripped, and took the vial of oil from the coffee table drawer. Kurt spread his legs for Blaine’s touch, arching up to the feel of his slick fingers, wanting him so much. 

Blaine urged him up onto his knees as he got into position behind him, and Kurt still had his face pressed against the pillow, muffling his moans as Blaine filled him so well. The apartment walls were thin, and Kurt didn’t want knowing glances from his neighbors, or worse, later on. They found a good rhythm, rocking together as Kurt pushed into his own slick fist. It wasn’t going to last long. Kurt scrambled to grab his boxers from the floor, cupping the fabric against himself as Blaine’s last few strokes sent him over the edge. Dropping onto the sofa, panting, Blaine followed him down for a few more thrusts before he bit into Kurt’s back with his release. 

After a few minutes, Blaine got up and came back with a warm, wet washcloth, cleaning Kurt up. “Anything else sore that you need rubbed?” He smirked, as he ran the cloth over Kurt’s sated cock. 

Kurt gave a little smile, knowing it wouldn’t take long with Blaine touching him like that to get hard again. Being young, they went for a second or even a third session some nights. But he put a hand over Blaine’s to move it away, and then pulled him closer for a kiss. Tonight, it was more about being intimate by being naked together and touching, than about sex.

Rolling Blaine over onto his back, Kurt laid over him on the sofa, and pulled a blanket up to cover them. Looking down at Blaine, Kurt could see he looked a little tired and wondered if it was being busy at the hotel or if the Titanic dreams were still waking him up. Brushing his short curls back off his face, Kurt kissed him slowly, feeling the slight scratch from his five o’clock shadow rasping over his skin. 

“I better be getting back soon.” Blaine sighed, tracing little patterns over the small of Kurt’s back with his fingers. 

Kurt let out a little complaining whine. “It’s not that late yet.” This was the hardest part, spending the nights apart and waking up alone. 

Blaine gave him a firm kiss, and shifted to sit up with a regretful expression. “I’ve got a pretty full day tomorrow. Are you still coming over around five?” 

Nodding as he got up, Kurt pulled on his shirt but didn’t bother doing up the buttons. He watched as Blaine dressed, going back to being the hotelier in a fine suit. 

At the door, Blaine turned to take his hand, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it. “You know I love you, right?” 

“Yes, Blaine.” Kurt said softly, stepping closer to hug him tight. “I love you too.” He whispered in his ear, inhaling the light scent of his cologne and his skin. Letting go reluctantly, and hiding behind the door as Blaine slipped out. 

\---

“Guess who dined at the restaurant last week.” Jeff asked with a definite spark of humor in his eyes. 

Trimming away a bit of fat from his steak, Blaine took a bite, thinking. “Molly Brown,” he guessed, really having no idea. He hadn’t lived in New York long enough to know the most important society people yet. 

Shaking his head, Jeff pushed the blond hair out of his eyes with an impatient hand. “Sylvia and Matthew Wilks.” He looked between Kurt and Blaine, and was clearly not impressed by their lack of reaction. 

Kurt finished his meal, draping his cloth napkin over his plate. “That name sounds vaguely familiar. Please remember that I’ve been in Europe for a few years, so I’m a little out of the gossip loop.” 

Nick leaned forward, giving them both a wide, easy smile. “Sylvia is the daughter of Hettie Green. Surely you’ve heard of her.” 

Getting up, Blaine carried their empty plates over to the trolley, and then pushed it into the hallway for the servers to take away later. “Isn’t she the ‘Witch of Wall Street’? Although I never really knew her full story. Was she called that because she was so good with money or because she is so odd?” 

“Well, she’s known to wear one old black dress all the time, so that’s a big part of it, but it’s probably due to her success financially.” Jeff supplied, pouring them coffee. 

Kurt added cream and sugar to his. “Isn’t she kind of infamous for being a miser even though she’s so rich? Is her daughter like that too?” 

Shaking his head, Nick shared a glance with Jeff. “Yes, Hettie is said to only eat 15 cent meat pies and keeps moving around to avoid taxes, apparently, because she’s so cheap. But Sylvia seemed disappointingly normal. She was dressed like any other young woman and ate a regular meal.” 

As the conversation carried on, Kurt sat back with his coffee, watching the interaction between Blaine and his old friends. It wasn’t the first time he had been around Jeff and Nick, but it was still interesting to see how they acted around each other. They were a little more relaxed behind closed doors like this, dining in Blaine’s parlor. There was an ease between them, like an old married couple at times, finishing each other’s sentences and prompting each other in conversation. There were little touches and glances, the blink-and-you-missed-it type, but Kurt was watching closely. Curiosity about their relationship bubbled inside him. Would Blaine be able to tell him much about them if he asked him later? 

Suddenly, Kurt became aware that they were all looking his way. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was deep in my own thoughts. Did you ask me something?” 

Blaine gave him a warm look, covering his hand with his own and giving it a squeeze. 

Jeff chuckled. “Obviously nothing that you were that interested in. Which makes me wonder what you were thinking about.” His eyes were a warm brown, a surprising contrast to his fair skin and pale blond hair. 

Squirming a little in his chair, Kurt considered if he should give another topic entirely or if there was a diplomatic way to ask what he had been wondering. This subject was so rarely talked about openly, he hardly had the words for it. 

Deciding to go for it, Kurt looked between Jeff and Nick. “Excuse me if you think this is too… forward for me to ask, but you two have been a couple since your prep school days?” 

Blaine looked a little shocked at Kurt’s question, but Nick chuckled and patted his arm to calm him down. “It’s OK, Blaine.” He looked over at Kurt, tilting his head a little as he looked Kurt over. “I don’t mind talking about it, as I sense it’s not just idle curiosity on your part. Am I right?” 

Swallowing, Kurt nodded slowly and put his hand over Blaine’s and left it there. It was like shouting from the rooftops that they were involved with each other. They had never really acknowledged what they had to anyone else so directly like that before. 

Jeff and Nick shared a knowing glance, and then smiled over at Blaine, who was blushing a little. Kurt watched, and realized that it kind of confirmed that these men had never been any of the boys Blaine had experimented with in that old school chapel. Maybe Jeff and Nick were already a couple by then. 

“We met when we were first in prep school at twelve, and we were instantly best friends. Later, when everyone else started talking about girls, we didn’t. And then Jeff totally shocked me by kissing me one day.” Nick said softly, his green eyes frequently being pulled back to Jeff’s as he spoke. “We were almost fourteen by then, weren’t we?” 

Jeff nodded. “And that was just it for me. I just knew.” He shared a long look with Nick, before looking over at Blaine and then Kurt. Not ashamed or hiding anything. 

Kurt’s eyebrows rose. “So, you’ve never even kissed anyone else in all these years? Haven’t even been tempted?” In ten years? As young men? 

Blaine gave a little cough, looking at Kurt with wide eyes. Clearly, Kurt was pressing against the edges of his comfort zone. 

Nick gave a little grin. “Yeah, it’s just been the two of us. Our rule is that it’s OK to look, but not touch. There are a few places where you can certainly see a lot. But you guys live here. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” 

Sharing a puzzled look with Blaine, Kurt turned back to Nick and shrugged. “I guess we haven’t been around New York long enough. What are you talking about?” 

Jeff poured out some brandy for himself, swirling the amber liquid in the globelike glass. “Bathhouses.” 

Blaine and Kurt shared a glance and burst out laughing. At the other men’s questioning look, Blaine gathered himself to explain about their experience of the Turkish Bath on the Titanic. 

Chuckling, Nick tapped a finger on his chin. “Hmmmm… and you said your father showed up there? I wonder….” 

Jeff nudged his shoulder, laughing. “I don’t know how it was on the Titanic, but most bathhouses are places were men like us can find each other.” 

His eyes were very wide when Blaine looked between his two friends. He was certainly learning a thing or two from them tonight. “And you two go there to….” He waved his hand, not wanting to be too explicit. 

“Like I said before, we just look, and don’t touch anyone but each other. But you can imagine looking at all those men, often naked or in just a little towel, all sweaty from the steam room...Shall we just say it keeps things interesting between us." Nick explained in a hushed voice.

Jeff and Nick shared a glance, and a bit of a wicked smile, before schooling their expressions back to normal. But it was enough to leave Kurt feeling intrigued.

"And how do you manage the day-to-day stuff, and still stay a couple? So often having to hide your feelings?" Kurt asked, really wanting to know. Long term gay couples were such a rare thing.

Grabbing the brandy decanter, Jeff refilled his glass and poured out three more. "Come on, let's go sit over on the sofas and get comfortable. This could take a while." 

\----- 

-Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

-A/N: So much for my plan of a 2-3 chapter alternative ending! This is obviously going to take a few more chapters. Haha

-The play Kurt's friend mentioned is a fabrication but based on a real book, 'Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal' (1907) by Roy Horniman. It was loosely adapted into a 1949 British dark comedy, 'Kind Hearts and Coronets', with Alec Guinness playing the eight victims fantastically.

-Hettie Green: She was a Quaker from a rich whaling family. Her younger brother died at a young age, and she spent a lot of time with her father and grandfather, reading financial newspapers by the age of six and becoming the family bookkeeper by the age of 13. By the time she was 30, she had inherited a fortune equivalent to $80 million in today's dollars. She married with a prenuptial agreement, and had two children. Wise investments over her lifetime led to her estate being worth $4 billion in today's dollars by the time she died in 1916, the richest woman in the world. But she was widely known for her miserly ways, like never using heat or hot water, wearing the same dress and undergarments until they wore out, telling her laundress to only wash the hem of her dress to save on soap. When her son broke his leg as a child, she tried to get him care at a free clinic, but stormed out when she was recognized and took him to other doctors. The leg never healed properly and eventually had to be amputated. In her old age, she developed a bad hernia, but refused to have an operation because it cost $150. She died at the age of 81 due to a stroke, apparently arguing with a maid over the virtues of skimmed milk. 


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt stood to the side of the stage, watching as the other actors ran through their scene.

"Oh Louis! I don't want to marry Lionel!" The pretty blond playing Sibella cried, as she threw herself dramatically into the arms of her onstage lover.

The tall, dark-haired man rolled his eyes slightly at her dramatic display, patting her back. "Why not?"

Sniffing, Sibella tilted her head up to look at Louis. "He's so dull," she cried, with a whining tone. 

Louis smirked, mostly to himself. "I must admit he exhibits the most extraordinary capacity for middle age that I've ever encountered in a young man of twenty-four."

"Ok, let's end the scene there for now." Marcus, the director, called out, walking forward. He was in his early 50s, but still quite slim and vibrant. He clapped a hand on the actor's shoulder. "Good job everyone. Have a good night.”

Kurt was putting his things into his bag when he noticed the man sitting in the last rows of the darkened theatre. He had been there a few other times, sitting quietly, watching the rehearsal for as long as an hour, before leaving. Not seeming to talk to anyone, not even the director. It seemed strange, but Kurt hadn’t been around theatres like this enough to know all the ins and outs of everything.

Walking the few blocks to his apartment, Kurt was again happy with his decision to move. This new apartment was still tiny, but the rent was much lower and it was an easy walking distance to the theatre. 

He didn't have much time, so he quickly changed into his best suit and made sure his hair was well styled. Running down the stairs, he almost ran into his landlady.

"Mr. Hummel! Don't you look handsome tonight? Where are you rushing off to?" She was dressed in a deep red full skirt with a ruffled white blouse, looking quite stylish herself.

"Just meeting some friends for dinner and a play, Mrs. Petrov." He gave her an apologetic look as he rushed by. "Sorry I can't chat, I'm running a little late."

He jumped onto the streetcar taking him to Midtown, and luckily made good time. He was nervous enough about tonight without adding the stress of being late. 

Finding the restaurant fairly easily, Kurt went in and was guided to a table by the attentive staff. 

Blaine gave him a wide, pleased smile, standing up to give him a warm handshake and patting him on the back with his other hand. "Oh, good. I'm so glad you're here, Kurt." 

He turned to wave towards the petite blonde sitting at the table. "Kitty Wilde, Kurt Hummel." Smiling at both of them in turn, Blaine sat back down. 

After all this time, it was a little strange to finally meet Kitty face to face. He had seen her on The Titanic from afar, but had never waited on her at the restaurant.

She was very pretty, with large, brown, intelligent eyes, a fair complexion and blonde curls elegantly pinned up. She was looking Kurt over just as thoroughly, and gave a small smile.

"Mr. Hummel, Blaine speaks of you so often, I feel like I already know you." She rested a hand on Blaine's forearm gently.

Trying not to stare at her hand on Blaine, in such an easy, casual manner, took a lot of acting skills. "Please, call me Kurt. I feel like I know you also."

Tilting her head in acknowledgement, she gave another small smile. "You may call me Kitty."

"How did your rehearsal go, Kurt?" Blaine opened his menu, looking over the choices. 

Kurt opened his menu as well. "Quite good, from what I can see. It still feels a little rough to only have six weeks left to get it ready."

Blaine put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, giving it a squeeze before releasing it. "I'm sure it will all come together, and you'll be great in it. Now, please, let's get a really decadent meal."

Knowing it was useless to argue, Kurt ordered expensive items. Blaine had insisted on treating him tonight to this dinner and the play, and Kurt let himself be spoiled by his wealthy boyfriend occasionally. 

"I'm so looking forward to this play tonight." Blaine said after the server had taken their orders. "I've seen Mary Pickford in so many silent films, and now to see her acting onstage, and speaking..."

Kitty chuckled, patting Blaine's arm. "I know, I know. You've been talking about it for weeks." 

Talking a sip of his wine, Kurt watched as Blaine and Kitty talked. Blaine hadn't mentioned Mary Pickford to him at all, only mentioning he had tickets to a Broadway play. 

"Kurt, you will probably be on my side about this. Wouldn't you agree that Blaine is taking this film thing a little far?" Kitty turned to ask him, sending teasing glances in Blaine's direction. 

Kurt looked at Blaine questionly. "Film thing? I'm sorry, but I don't know what you are talking about."

Sending a look Blaine's way, Kitty turned to Kurt. "Oh, you know how he's always going to film showings all over the city. It's even worse since we met that little Frenchman at that party. He and Blaine must have talked for two hours straight."

 _Frenchman?_ Kurt looked at Blaine, wondering when all this had started, and why Blaine had never mentioned it.

Blaine just shook his head fondly at Kitty. "You're exaggerating. It wasn't that long." He looked over at Kurt. "Have you heard of George Méliès, the filmmaker who made 'A Trip To the Moon'? One of his staff was at a party we were at, and we got into discussing filmmaking."

Kurt nodded as he listened. He had seen the short, silent movies at many Vaudeville shows. Everyone had been amazed at this new technology at first, and some of the performers worried that it would change their profession. Kurt couldn't see it though. How could short little 10 minute silent films replace the full color, full sound experience of live performances? Why would anyone prefer those stilted performances caught on grainy film to the real thing? There were Vaudeville theatres in every city and town, and thousands of performers who travelled the circuit. This film business was just a novelty and would soon fade, Kurt was sure.

"Why does it interest you, Blaine?" Kurt asked, wanting to get his point of view. 

Blaine shrugged. "I don't exactly know why it has captured my imagination so much. I like when they have fantasy elements, like going to the moon. Or film a scene right on a real location, like in Central Park. Those are things you can't replicate on stage."

Kurt wasn't convinced, but he could see how much Blaine was into it, so didn't argue. 

Their meals came, and they carried on talking about other topics. Kitty was a smart woman, and very active in helping other Titanic survivors, the suffragette cause and learning to drive a car. Kurt found himself liking her despite not really wanting to.

But as they finished the meal and got a taxi to the theatre, Kurt felt even more aware of the way Blaine and Kitty were together. It was hard to keep his expression pleasant as they joked and laughed, Kitty often touching Blaine's arm. They just looked so right as a couple.

"Are you coming back to the hotel for a little while?" Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear as they left the theatre, his hand clasping Kurt's wrist and rubbing back and forth along the sensitive skin there, letting go before others could notice his touch. 

Kurt sighed, knowing what Blaine wanted, and for the first time, not feeling an answering pang of arousal at the thought. "I don't know, Blaine, I'm feeling a little tired."

Blaine's eyes widened a bit in surprise, and he just nodded curtly, turning to usher Kitty along with a guiding hand on the small of her back. 

In the taxi, Blaine was seated between Kitty and Kurt, and the traffic was slow with the after theatre crowd. Kitty leaned against the side of the taxi, seeming to nod off a little.

Kurt still felt a little strange from the whole night. He had felt like a third wheel, felt out of place on Kitty and Blaine's high society outing. So often, they mentioned people Kurt hadn't met in their conversation, and brought up topics they had obviously discussed before. The whole night, it felt like he was seeing just how well Kitty and Blaine knew each other. It was obvious they spent time together often, if not every day. Lately, with Kurt's long rehearsals and living in Greenwich Village, he'd be lucky to see Blaine two or three times a week.

It was quiet in the taxi, slowly moving in the traffic, dark. Kurt was almost half asleep when he felt Blaine's hand on his knee. Kurt pushed it away. But a few minutes later, the hand was back and sliding to his inner thigh. 

Kurt tensed, turning his head to look at Blaine in the dark taxi. "Blaine...," he said softly with a warning tone. To do this with Kitty and the taxi driver so close was crazy. 

Blaine returned his look, his dark eyes going from Kurt's eyes, and dropping to his lips, his hand still stroking halfway up his inner thigh, teasing. Unbidden, the thought of his hand going higher, feeling Kurt getting hard, flashed into his mind. An image of Blaine undoing his pants and slipping his hand inside, touching him with the others so close, and Kurt trying to keep quiet. 

The taxi stopped, and the driver got out, the slam of his door rousing Kitty. He opened Kitty's door and helped her out. She waved at Blaine and Kurt to stay seated. 

"Thanks, boys, for a great night out. We should do it again sometime." Kitty said with a smile.

They bade her goodnight, and she went into her apartment building with its uniformed doorman.

Blaine gave the driver the hotel address to go to next.

"Please, Kurt. Come inside with me when we get there. It has been so long." Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, his hand once again on Kurt's leg, teasing. 

The spark of desire was warring with Kurt's unsettled feelings from the evening. He pushed Blaine's hand away, shifting on the seat to out a little distance between them.

Blaine sat up straighter, looking questionly at Kurt. "Are you mad at me for something, Kurt?" He blinked and was obviously reviewing things in his mind, trying to understand Kurt's behavior. 

He took Kurt's hand. "If you are, that's even more of a reason for you to come in for a bit. So you can talk to me, tell me what's bothering you. I won't be able to sleep unless I know."

Pulling his hand away, Kurt was beginning to just feel cranky and irritated, and like he really just wanted to be home alone. He sighed. "Blaine, like I said before, I'm just a bit tired tonight. That's it. Don't push it."

The taxi stopped in front of the hotel, and the driver got out, opening Blaine's door. 

"Kurt, please, please, come in with me. Just for one drink. I'll give you can taxi fare to get home fast after. Please." Blaine begged softly.

Kurt looked at his earnest eyes, and sighed again, giving in with a quick nod. Blaine paid the driver and they got out.

In Blaine's room, he poured them brandy and sat beside Kurt on the sofa. His eyes were seeking answers, searching Kurt's expression, a hint of concern and worry there. "Please, Kurt. Talk to me, tell me what's bothering you."

Kurt tossed the brandy back, and set down his glass. He got up, pacing around the lavishly decorated room. "Blaine, I really don't want to get into it. I'm just tired and a bit moody tonight. I really should go home."

Blaine got up, shaking his head, slowly walking towards Kurt. "I know you well enough to know it's more than just that. Is it the play? Are you feeling stressed out from your rehearsal?"

"No." Kurt bit out, turning away to look at the seascape painting on the wall. 

When he turned back, ready to just say goodnight and go, Blaine was right there, crowding into his space. "Blaine, it's late. I'm going." 

But Blaine stepped forward, his hands coming up to Kurt's shoulders, and turning him to press him against the wall. His lips caught Kurt's, the kiss hot and intense, and he shifted a leg between Kurt's. 

Kurt turned his face away, shocked at Blaine's actions, as Blaine kissed down Kurt's neck. "Blaine, no, I don't want this..."

"Come on, Kurt. I could tell you were getting into it in the taxi. I bet I could have stroked you and you would have been trying not to moan my name..." Blaine moved his hands to loosen Kurt's tie and open the top buttons of his shirt, nuzzling his face closer to kiss Kurt's neck.

Pressing his hands against Blaine's chest, Kurt shoved him back, stepping away from the wall. He was breathing hard, and there was a tight feeling in his stomach. "You really think I'm in the mood to be with you after everything I saw tonight?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

Blaine glared back at him. "See, there was something bothering you. What happened tonight?"

Kurt let out an impatient huff. "It was a dozen tiny things. The way you were joking together, and talking about people I don't know. The way she would touch your arm, or you'd guide her through a doorway. Or the way she knew things about you I don't. You've known her as long as you've known me, so how is it she knows so much more about you?"

Blaine sank down on the sofa, shaking his head. He picked up his brandy, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip and setting it back down. "So, you are jealous of her? Jealous that I'm friends with her? I can quit seeing her if that's what you want." He sounded defeated, tired suddenly.

Walking over to Blaine, Kurt dropped to his knees in front of him, and looked up into his face. He reached out his hand to lift Blaine's chin so they could see each other eye to eye. Both felt hurt, and a bit sensitive. They had rarely fought, rarely raised their voices to each other.

Kurt sighed. "No, I don't want you to stop being friends with Kitty. Being with her tonight just confirmed in my mind that she's a special person in your life for a good reason. But it doesn't change that I'm jealous of the time you can have with her, so openly."

Blaine nodded, looking a little lost. "I don't know what else we can do, Kurt. You know I want to be with you more. Maybe we were just fools to try doing this together. I'll just ending up hurting you."

Pushing Blaine back on the sofa, Kurt crawled over him. "It would hurt more to be without you. I know, Blaine, from all those months I thought you were dead. I was useless...just moping around the house mostly. We were given a second chance to be together, and we can't waste it."

Blaine pulled Kurt down into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you said that. It would kill me to have to let you go, but I do it if I thought you'd be happier that way. Our lives aren't going to be easy together, but I would put up with a lot for the privilege to hold you like this."

Kurt looked down at his man below him, and felt the strong connection still there between them. This was still the man he loved, had made vows with all those months before. He pushed away the lingering bad feelings, and promised to himself to do better in the future. Honor the love and focus on making Blaine happy.

Their kisses quickly became intense, wanting to make up for their stirred up emotions, wanting to reconnect and feel right again together. Blaine's hands were on Kurt's ass, cupping as he arched up to grind together, his breathing already fast as Kurt kissed his neck. 

Nudging Kurt to get up, Blaine got off the sofa and took his hand to lead him to the bedroom. It was dark as they stripped quickly and dropped to the bed, Kurt on his back and Blaine kissing his way down his chest. 

Kurt's hands dug into Blaine's curls as his mouth and hands pleasured him, after so many weeks together knowing exactly what to do to make Kurt gasp and moan softly. Blaine loved this, having Kurt almost mindless and shuddering under his touch. So intimate and connected, the world falling away when they were alone together behind closed doors.

Kurt returned the favor, doing wicked things with his tongue to tease Blaine, already so on the edge from being aroused so long. His hands spread Blaine's strong thighs wide, leaving him totally vulnerable to Kurt's hands, as he kissed the way up his inner thigh. 

In the aftermath, they cuddled together, both a bit lost in their thoughts. 

"So, it sounds like you are really getting into this film thing." Kurt said softly, as he gently massaged Blaine's neck. 

Blaine practically purred under Kurt's touch. He nodded, his large hazel eyes meeting Kurt's stormy blue. "I'm even thinking of buying a camera to shoot some movies of my own." 

Kurt chuckled. "Oh really? What kind of movies?" 

"I don't know yet. Just want to play around and see how it turns out." Blaine shrugged slightly. "Would you let me film you?"

Kurt's brows went up slightly, and he thought about it. It would be strange to see himself on film like that. He chuckled at the idea. "It's funny. I'm known for my singing and doing accents fairly well. And you want to put me in a silent movie where neither of those things are shown?"

Blaine ran a hand down Kurt's chest. "You have other assets, Kurt." 

"Oh my. Are you thinking of doing that kind of movie? Naughty boy." Kurt smirked at the thought. He had seen clips of movies that were shown only to men, paying a special price, in Paris. Images of women stripping and posing naked, reclined back on a chaise lounge. Chuckled at the thought of his slim, pale body being on the screen. Would men like them be aroused at seeing him like that? 

Blaine laughed and nudged Kurt. "No! I meant that you are very expressive, with your face and body. You would probably be very good at acting in a silent movie."

Kurt chuckled, rolling to the side of the bed to sit up, and start dressing. 

Blaine sat up too, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I understand why you were upset tonight about Kitty. I think it shows we aren't spending enough time together, just talking and sharing what's going on in our lives. I'm going to make more of an effort there, since my schedule is more flexible."

Kurt stood to slip his pants back on. He felt good that Blaine had said that, that he recognized the real thing that was bothering Kurt. "You don't mind coming all the way down to The Village?"

Blaine grabbed his robe and pulled it on, coming to stand beside Kurt and tying his tie. His fingers did it quickly, perfectly, and then he smoothed down Kurt's suit lapels. "Not at all. I want to see the world you are living in and get to know your friends. You've been here with Jeff, Nick and now Kitty. Can you sneak me into some play rehearsals?"

Kurt nodded, his mind flashing to the odd man who had shown up a few times, keeping to himself in the back rows. "Yes, as long as you don't disrupt us, it seems to be OK."

They walked to the door, and Blaine passed Kurt some cash for the taxi, curled his fingers around it. "Please just take it. We spent a long time talking and everything tonight, and I don't want you spending ages getting home."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt shoved the money in his pocket. They shared a final, long kiss, and Kurt crackled the door open, checking the hallway was empty before he slipped out.

\---

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

\- Mary Pickford: She was one of the most popular silent film actresses in the 1910's and 1920's, earning the name 'Queen of the Movies'. Her alcoholic father died when she was 6 and she started acting on stage at 7. By 15, she was in a small Broadway roles, and by 17 had a film contract with director DW Griffith's company. In 1912, she went back to Broadway to star in the play, 'A Good Little Devil', and realized that she preferred movie acting. By 1916, only Charlie Chaplin was a more popular actor than her. In 1919, Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, DW Griffith and Mary Pickford made their own independent film production company, United Artists. When sound became part of movies around 1928, her career faded, like it did for many other silent film era stars. She retired from acting in 1933, but was a savvy businesswoman in the film industry, and died in her 80's with a net worth of over $50 million.

-George Méliès: In the early days of cinema, this French filmmaker made over 500 films. During that time, they were typically 10-15 minutes long, in black and white, and silent. 'A Trip To the Moon' (1902) and 'The Impossible Voyage' (1904) were some of his best known films, with a variety of early special effects to present the fantasy stories. 


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt met the gaze of a tall, green-eyed man, and felt a twinge of awareness at the interest there. But he didn’t encourage it, closing his eyes and trying to relax in the steamy surroundings.

Coming here was exciting, but always had that edge of danger from being in public, being caught. There was talk about police raids a few years ago at another bathhouse, with over twenty men arrested. 

He felt a presence beside him, and opened his eyes, half-expecting it to be the green-eyed stranger making a bolder move, but was relieved to see it was Blaine. 

Still, he kept his face neutral, acting like a stranger, giving Blaine a thorough look-over before closing his eyes again, feeling the sweat trickling down his chest.

Someone else entered, and must have thought the other guy was his best shot, as when Kurt opened his eyes, there was a blond man sitting near him. The steam room was empty except for the four of them. 

Leaning back, his eyes half-lidded, he watched the non-verbal interaction between the two men, the eye contact that lingered, the way they moved closer to each other, shifting until their thighs were touching. 

Beside him, he could sense Blaine's faster breathing and knew he was just as affected by watching as Kurt was. Glancing over at him, his olive skin was beaded with sweat and his muscular arms looked particularly appealing. 

The blond man was pulling at the tall man's towel, loosening it enough to slip his hand underneath. Kurt felt a surge of arousal, and grabbed a spare towel to drape over his lap, wanting more coverage than the thin towel around his waist would provide. 

Blaine moved closer as the tall man leaned back, letting out low moans as the blond man stroked him. He leaned to kiss near Kurt's ear. "Can we find somewhere more private?" His tone was breathy, hot against Kurt's neck.

Nodding, Kurt got up, sparing a last look at the tall man, lost in his pleasure, so bold and unashamed. It was still a shock when Kurt saw displays like this. Shocking, and arousing as hell.

Walking quickly in the dimly-lit hallways, Blaine unlocked the small room he had rented, and they were soon behind it’s closed doors. Their kisses were hot and urgent, pure want and need. Hands sliding over their bare, sweaty skin.

Kurt sat on the wooden platform, and pulled Blaine’s towel away. He was already so hard, and Kurt’s hands and lips made him even more so, his hands clutching into the wet hair at the nape of Kurt’s neck. 

“You do that so, so well…” Blaine groaned, trying to resist pushing deeper into Kurt’s mouth and ending things too quickly. It was hard to pull back, running his fingers over Kurt’s mouth, and looking down into his darkened eyes. “I want you so much, Kurt.” 

Digging around in his bag, Blaine pulled out a vial of oil and passed it to Kurt. He laid out his towel on the platform, and lowered down onto it, face-first, spreading his legs in invitation. 

Kurt took it, kneeling between Blaine’s legs, kissing down his spine. His breathing was fast against Blaine’s skin, and he knew Kurt matched his level of aroussal. His long fingers prepped Blaine well, finding the spot inside that made Blaine shudder with sensation and teasing him until Blaine let out a small whimper. 

Rolling Blaine onto his side, Kurt laid behind him and bent Blaine’s top leg up towards his chest. It was a different position than they had tried before, and Blaine sighed out how different it felt as Kurt pushed into him, tighter, deeper. Just wanting him hard and fast. Kurt felt the same urgency, the same need, and they rocked together at a quick pace. 

By the time they had both found their peak, they were a mess. Sweat, oil and cum soaking into their towels as they panted, recovering. 

Kurt kissed Blaine slowly for a few minutes before regretfully pulling back and looking at Blaine’s pocket watch. “I really wish we could clean up and go for a coffee or something. It feels like we haven’t talked much lately. But I have to get to rehearsal pretty soon.” 

Blaine nodded, sighing as he looked down into Kurt’s blue-grey eyes. Although they had both promised to be better at making time for each other, it hadn’t happened as much as they had wanted. They had tried out this bathhouse that Jeff and Nick suggested, and found it exciting and convenient, being about halfway between them. Unfortunately, they were trending towards only having quick sexual encounters, getting ramped up by the environment, and not making time after to talk. 

Sitting up, Blaine rubbed a towel over his stomach, cleaning up. “There are so many holiday events at the hotel, and then Kitty has me going to so many gatherings with her as well.” He sighed. “I’m sure it will calm down after the holidays. I will definitely come out to a few more of your rehearsals then.” 

Kurt got up, wrapping the towel around his waist. “I understand, Blaine. I’m just glad we could see each other before I head back to Lima.” 

Grabbing Kurt’s arm, Blaine pulled him between his legs. “Are you sure you are OK with exchanging gifts when you get back?” He looked at Kurt with concerned eyes, really trying to see how he felt about this. This all felt so rushed and strange to him, but he’d never had to deal with the Christmas rush at the hotel without his father before. Even Jeff and Nick were looking frazzled. 

Kurt leaned in to give Blaine a little kiss. “I’ve been so busy with rehearsals, I hardly had time to get gifts for my family. Waiting for a quieter time, when we can both relax, is fine with me.” 

Blaine nodded, still looking a little unsure. He reached for his towel and they both headed to the washrooms to clean up.

\---

Marcus clapped his hands. "Ok, everyone, I think we are in good shape, and we will resume rehearsals on January 6th. That gives us four weeks to polish things up before we open. Everyone please practice your lines over the Christmas break so we can be fully off book when we're back. OK?"

Everyone was nodding in agreement, and calling out Merry Christmas to each other, some of the cast and crew hugging or shaking hands before they eventually all dispersed.

Kurt was one of the last to leave, taking the time to pack up the pieces from his many costumes into a large valise. He needed to practice changing costumes quickly, and may do some alterations to make this easier.

As he closed the bag with a snap, he saw the man was back, sitting in the back row. Kurt hadn’t noticed him there as much lately, and had almost forgotten about him. But here he was, and the theatre was practically deserted. 

Looking around quickly, Kurt saw that he had all his things, and walked backstage to the stage door. There were still a few of the crew working back here, so he relaxed slightly. Something about that man made Kurt feel uncomfortable. 

The stage door exited onto a back alley, and Kurt made his way back to the main road. It was almost seven pm, and dark out, but there were the normal amounts of people walking around. Even so, Kurt still noticed the man from the theatre waiting near the main theatre entrance.

A block later, Kurt waited to cross a street, and the man came to stand beside him.

“Mr. Hummel, I believe?” The man smiled, holding out a gloved hand. He was middle aged, wearing a black hat and a long, black wool coat. He had a stocky frame, and intelligent dark eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. 

Kurt looked down at the proffered hand, and shook it with a sigh. “Yes, and you are?” 

The man nodded, and pointed to a nearby restaurant. “I think it best if we talked over a drink, or a meal. Could you spare me a little time?” 

Caution fought with curiosity in Kurt’s mind, and the latter won out. They would be safe enough in a public place, and he was a little hungry. He’d kill two birds with one stone. He nodded to the stranger, and then followed him into the restaurant. 

After settling into their seats, Kurt followed the man’s example, ordering a simple meal and some coffee. Once the server had moved away, the man leaned forward, talking in a soft tone that Kurt had to strain a little to hear. 

“You can call me Mr. Chapman. I have been scouting your theatre and others, talking to some of the directors, looking for some very special people.” His chin was tipped down slightly, his eyes intent on Kurt’s.

Kurt furrowed his brow, trying to understand what Mr. Chapman was getting at. “Are you casting for another play? If so, I am flattered, but I’m committed to this one until April.” 

Shaking his head once, Mr. Chapman carried on. “It is not a play, Mr. Hummel, although I am very interested in the acting skills I’ve seen you demonstrate in this production. I have heard that you speak French and German fluently.”

Kurt struggled to keep up with the man’s rapid conversation. “Um, yes, I lived in Paris for a few years and would consider myself fluent. My German is conversational, not as strong.” This conversation just seemed odd. Why would a casting director care about his other languages? Was he wanting Kurt to do lines in German? 

Mr. Chapman nodded once. “I see. We may be able to provide you with German instruction. May I ask if you are a married man? Any children?” 

Their server arrived with their meals, and Kurt wondered again over this strange line of questioning. It did not feel like anything he had encountered for his other jobs. 

“May I ask why that is relevant?” Kurt replied. When in doubt, avoid a question by asking a question yourself. 

Cutting into his chicken, Mr. Chapman took a small bite. “The position we are considering you for could involve travelling to Europe, working there for periods of time. Do you have family here that depend on you?” 

Kurt dug into his beef stew, thinking of how to answer. His father and stepmother were independent, obviously. He went months without seeing them, although they wrote often. Was Blaine ‘family’? They had called each other husbands back on the Titanic, but they were barely seeing each other for a few hours each week, both just seemingly pulled more and more into the whirlwind of their own lives.

“I am not married and have no children. I have travelled extensively for work the past few years, in fact. I toured with Vaudeville, and the English music hall circuits.” Kurt decided to answer factually, now curious about where this odd interview was going to end up. 

“Excellent.” Mr. Chapman nodded, his face still not betraying much for emotion. He was a very hard man to read. Kurt was good at watching for mannerisms, accents, things that made a person distinctive. This man seemed muted somehow, like he had none of those things that would make him stand out. 

They had finished their meals, and Mr. Chapman paid the bill. “Do you have a minute to go into the hotel lobby? I would like to explain the position we are considering you for, and it would be best to be away from other people to do this.” 

Having come this far, Kurt nodded and followed the older man into the adjoining hotel lobby. It was quiet, with subdued lighting and upholstered chairs grouped around the roomy space. The hotel clerk was reading a newspaper behind his counter, and gave them an uninterested glance before returning to his reading. 

Mr. Chapman waved Kurt into a chair, and took one that was close by. He leaned forward, talking in that fast, soft way that made Kurt prick up his ears to listen closely, afraid to miss something. 

“From my queries beforehand, I understand you were living in Paris for a few years, just leaving there this spring.” Mr. Chapman said quickly, his eyes intent on Kurt’s.

Kurt nodded, a little surprised at this man knowing that. He had gone by the name Marcel Lapointe mostly, finding it easier to fit in if he presented himself as a Frenchman. In England, he had gone by the name Archie Taylor. 

Mr. Chapman seemed to speak even quieter then. “During your time in Paris, those years, did you sense a change in the country? The politics?” 

Furrowing his brow, Kurt was more confused than ever by the direction of this conversation. He decided to give it ten more minutes, and then he would make his excuses to go home. “Well, I worked in the outskirts of Paris, in Montmartre, which was mostly artists, theatre folk, people on the fringe of society. I wouldn’t say the political climate of France was a major topic of conversation.” 

“Yes, but you also socialized with your clientele to some extent, didn’t you? Many of them wealthy businessmen of Paris or abroad, looking for some entertainment and a good time, often drinking enough to talk more than they should, perhaps?” Mr. Chapman pressed, his eyes still so intent on Kurt’s. 

Kurt was beginning to get an idea, an incredible idea, about what was happening here. “All the entertainers socialized with the clientele to encourage their drinking and relationships that would make them return.” Kurt had often spent time in the audience as Nikita, acting as a woman, chatting with the patrons. They were always shocked when they saw his act for the first time. After that, most of the men spoke with him differently, never flirting like before, treating him as a man who had pulled a practical joke on them perhaps. He made friends out of the regulars, his quick wit making them laugh. 

“Again, did you get a sense of things changing in the country during your time there?” Mr. Chapman asked. 

Biting his lips slightly, Kurt thought back to his time in France. At first, just adapting to getting work and finding a place to stay, working on his act, making friends and connections. But after a few months, he had gotten a feel for the theatre and the area. And things had changed. So much so that he was actively looking for ways to get back to the US for many months when the Titanic opportunity came up. 

“I got a sense of unrest, of tensions increasing. I read the newspapers, and did talk enough with the patrons to get a sense of that. They were well-travelled, educated businessmen, and I could see how they were hesitating to rely on German imports, and pulling away from some of their business interactions.” Kurt shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

Mr. Chapman nodded. “This is exactly what we are looking for you to do for us, Mr. Hummel. You are very good at fitting into places, seeming unthreatening, and making people comfortable. I have seen that you do many accents perfectly. You are fluent enough in French to pass as a local. You are intelligent and hard working. We are prepared to offer you a position and provide you paid training. The compensation is quite generous.” He named a sum that made Kurt blink hard for a moment, unsure if he heard it correctly. 

Kurt shook his head slightly. “Mr. Chapman, you still have not told me what this position entails.” 

The older man steepled his hands, leveling Kurt with a steady look. “Reconnaissance.”

It took a minute for Kurt to catch his breath, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh out loud or just repeat that word back to make sure he heard it right. Mr. Chapman’s gaze was steady on his, brooking no arguments. “You want me, Kurt Hummel, to be a spy.” His eyes were wide, and he said the words slowly, wanting them to be clear.

Mr. Chapman nodded. “As you have said, things are changing in Europe. We need to gather information now to protect our interests, and that of our allies.” He pulled out his wallet, and passed Kurt a business card that only had a street address on it, no name.

The man stood up, adjusting his coat. “Mr. Hummel, please take the holidays to consider the offer. In January, come to this office and make an appointment to see me if you want more information or to accept my offer.” With a quick handshake, he left the stunned actor sitting there, still clutching the business card.

\---

It was a relief to get on the train at Grand Central Station for the trip to Ohio. He was looking forward to seeing his family again, and having Christmas with them for the first time in many years. His luggage was full of small gifts and tins of treats he had baked in his tiny apartment, recipes he had learned from the places he had travelled, looking forward to sharing them with Burt and Carole. It would also be nice to be in quiet, snowy Ohio, away from the busy New York streets and constant noise. Time to rest, read and visit. 

He had considered asking Blaine to join him, knowing his family liked him and wanted to get to know him better. But Blaine was so busy with the hotel and Kitty for the holidays, so many parties and functions going on, it would have been ridiculous to even ask him. 

Lately, he wondered if Blaine would have even come, even if he hadn’t been so busy. They kept promising to spend more time together, but had a hard time squeezing it into their schedules. Kurt groaned to himself as he considered the next few weeks when he got back, and knew it would be just as hard to see each other the next few months. The play was opening at the end of January, so there would be intense rehearsals as soon as he got back for the whole month. Then, he would be doing eight shows a week. Kurt was anxious, having eight roles to keep straight in his mind, and to make the costumes work right for the quick costume changes. He would have to be at the top of his game for every show. 

The show was scheduled to run until early April, with the possibility of an extension if it was well received. Of course, if it totally bombed, it could end sooner. If it did well, it could lead to other jobs for Kurt, and could grow into a career. If not, he was back to scrambling day-to-day for jobs.

Pulling out his wallet, he looked again at the business card Mr. Chapman had given him. Reconnaissance. Spying. What would it really involve? The pay was certainly appealing, and it sounded like Mr. Chapman was impressed with Kurt’s skills. But Kurt wasn’t foolish enough to not realized the true reason he had asked if Kurt had a wife and children. The job had it’s dangers, and he wouldn’t want to risk himself if he was attached.

The way things were going, he could probably go away for a month on a business trip, and Blaine would be too busy to notice. Could Kurt really consider himself ‘attached’ when they saw each other so little? Blaine hardly relied on Kurt for anything, and Kurt didn’t rely on him either. 

Kurt had read espionage novels, like “The Riddle of the Sands”, and enjoyed them. But what would it really be like trying to collect information about other people like that? The danger of being captured by a hostile government, and who knows what would happen. But then again, he knew people who lived in France and England still, had good friends there. If his actions could maybe help prevent or minimize the chance of a war, wouldn’t that justify his actions? If his actions could save American lives? 

The whole idea just seemed so crazy to even consider. But he was very good at fitting in, dressing and acting like people around him to avoid notice. He could stay in character for hours, days, if need be. And frankly, Kurt had always sought out adventure in his life. He had joined Vaudeville for a chance to perform, but also to travel and meet interesting people. He had moved to England and France for the same reasons, and loved it all. It would be exciting to see if he could rise to this challenge as well, to push against his limits. To rely on his own skills and judgment in tight situations. 

\---

 

"So, how are things going for you in New York?" Burt nudged Kurt's shoulder. 

Carole was working in the kitchen, after firmly pushing Kurt out to relax on the sofa with Burt. 

Kurt shrugged and gave his dad a crooked smile. "It's going OK. I'm still adjusting to working more in regular theatres instead of Vaudeville."

Burt's eyes were probing, looking for the full truth behind Kurt's words. "You don't sound too happy."

Sighing, Kurt closed his eyes. He opened them, knowing he could talk openly with his father. "I knew it would be a challenge, but it still grinds me down. I have found a good apartment, made some friends, and like the community I live in. It reminds me of Montmartre, actually, full of artists and bohemian views. The work isn't as steady as I want though, so I'm considering some other work, but it would involve travelling again."

"And where does Blaine fit into all of this? I thought you moved to New York to be with him." Burt asked. 

"Yes, I did, but..." Kurt took a steading breath, feeling emotional talking about this.

His dad hugged Kurt, rubbing his back. "Oh, kiddo, I wish I could make things easier for you."

Kurt pulled back. "Blaine and I try to be together as often as we can, but with our schedules, it's usually only a few hours a week. It's not enough. I can feel things are becoming more distant between us, and I don't know what to do." Saying it aloud made it feel even worse, more real.

"You mentioned a woman he was considering marrying." Burt prompted.

"They aren't engaged, and we are all friends. They go to society events together quite often." Kurt shrugged. There was no way Kurt would be accepted at those functions, and at least Blaine wasn't approached by other women when he was with Kitty. "If they did marry, it would probably be similar to how it is now."

Burt shook his head. "So, you have to decide if you can be happy having him only part of the time, and making the rest of your life as good as you can, or giving him up completely and trying to find a happy life without him."

Kurt considered discussing his strange job offer, but rejected the idea. It would just worry Burt. "I've been offered a job that would involve working in Europe some of the time. It would use my French and German language skills, and pay quite well." 

"Would you be OK getting back on a steamer?" Burt gave him a concerned look.

Shrugging, Kurt nodded. "It would be scary, but it's unlikely I'd be on another sinking ship." Ships crossed the Atlantic safely every day.

"It sounds like you have some hard decisions to make, Kurt. But you are a strong, brave man and I'm proud to call you my son. I know you will make the choice that is right for you." Burt gave him a wobbly smile, and hugged him tight. 

\----

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Sorry it's taken me awhile to update. I hope you like this twist... ;P 

-Kurt and Blaine were at 'The Everard Spa Turkish Bathhouse' (28 West 28th Street). It was a former church building that was converted into a bathhouse in 1888, intended for general health and fitness. It was patronized largely by homosexuals by the 1920s and became the community's preeminent social venue from the 1930s onward. On January 5, 1919 the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice encouraged a police raid in which the manager and nine customers were arrested for lewd behavior. It was raided again in 1920 with 15 arrests.

It had a reputation as "classiest, safest, and best known of the baths," eventually picking up the nickname "Everhard". Emlyn Williams described a visit in 1927: "Up some stairs at a desk an ashen bored man in shirtsleeves produced a ledger crammed with illegible scrawls. I added mine, paid my dollar, was handed a key, towel and robe, hung the key on my wrist and mounted to a large floor as big as a warehouse and as high: intersecting rows of private rooms each windowless cell dark except from the glimmer from above through wire-netting shredded with dust and containing a narrow workhouse bed...[he later heard] a casual whisper, a sigh lighter than thistle-down, a smothered moan. Then appeasement: the snap of a lighter as two strangers sat back for a smoke and polite murmured small talk, such as they might exchange in a gym." Over the years, patrons included Gore Vidal, Rudolf Nureyev, and Truman Capote. It operated until 1986 when it was closed by New York City mayor Ed Koch during the city’s campaign to close such venues during the AIDS epidemic. 

-Mr. Chapman: He is a fictional member of the War Department’s Military Intelligence Division (MID), a predecessor to the OSS (1942-1947) and the CIA (1947-). US military intelligence was a spotty thing around this time. But when WWI broke out in 1914, it became obvious as the war continued that the US would soon be involved. By the war's end in 1919, MID had grown to 282 officers and 1,159 civilians, most of them specialists. This included French-speaking agents to do undercover investigations of individuals and organizations in France. I took some liberties here, imaging Kurt as a possible early recruit for MID. 

-‘The Riddle of the Sands: A Record of Secret Service’ by Erskine Childers (1903). A very popular novel before WWI is an early example of the espionage novel that influenced later spy fiction. Ken Follett has called it ‘the first modern thriller’, and it has made it onto lists such as ‘the ten best classic spy novels’ and ‘100 greatest novels of all time’. The whole genre of "invasion novels" like this one raised the public's awareness of the "potential threat" of Imperial Germany.


	6. Chapter 6

_“Wann fährt der nächste Zug?”_ Kurt said to himself, and then wrote it into his notebook. He looked at the next thing to translate. “Do you have a light?” 

He thought for a minute. _“Hast du –“_ he started.

“Kurt, they have called for places.” Angeline interrupted him, already fully in her Sibella costume. 

Kurt nodded, putting his books into his bag, and checking his first costume in the mirror before following Angeline to the side of the stage. 

After so many weeks, he didn’t need long to focus and get into character. The first one was a young man, a banker’s son, so he wasn’t as challenging to play as the characters like the older woman or the Admiral that came later. He stepped confidently on stage and did his role perfectly. 

\---

“Why are you studying German, anyways?” Angeline asked, taking a sip of her wine. It was Sunday night, and most of the cast and crew went out after the play for a few drinks, knowing they had the next day off. 

Kurt shrugged. “I know a little, and thought it would be good to brush up on it. I have a friend who does some translation work, and it pays well.” The explanation came easily, and wasn’t entirely untrue. The best lies were as close to the truth as possible. 

When he got back to New York in January, he had met with Mr. Chapman, asking many questions about the job offer. He was still undecided about it, but Mr. Chapman was quite sure Kurt would do well in the position. As an incentive, he offered Kurt German training at no cost while he was involved with the play, no strings attached. If he accepted the job, it would be useful. If not, there was a possibility of some freelance translation work. He already did some occasionally for French. 

Angeline nodded. “Such is the nature of our work. It is hard to be a performer full time, with no side jobs, isn’t it? I often work as a server to cover the bills.” 

“I’ve done that too.” Kurt grinned back, feeling relaxed with her. He had gotten to really like the cast, and was sad the show was ending in a week. They had done the full run at least, but the ticket sales weren’t strong enough to extend it. 

Knowing he would be out of work in a week was really making Kurt consider his options. He was already auditioning for other parts, but hadn’t heard back from anyone. He had some savings, and could probably survive a few weeks if he picked up a few quick jobs, but he needed steady work. It made the promised salary with Mr. Chapman even more appealing. He could easily cover his bills with it, and put a lot into savings. Have more financial security. 

The other option for more stable employment was going back to Vaudeville. He still had his old contacts, and kept up with friends as they toured through New York. It was great that even after all this time, they knew he was a solid performer, able to sing, act, dance, do comedic roles, whatever was needed. 

Both options would involve being away from New York a lot. And the only big reason against doing that was Blaine. Was that still a big enough reason to hold him back from finding steady work? 

They had picked up in January like before. Meeting at the bathhouse a couple times a week for quick encounters, and usually a longer evening together at either Kurt’s place or Blaine’s hotel once a week. Lately, Blaine had worried about being seen together too much at the hotel, so they had been at Kurt’s more. 

“Kurt, it is good to see you.” An older woman stopped at the table to swoop in to hug him. 

Kurt smiled at her. “Mrs. Petrov, looking lovely as always.” His landlady was dressed in a rich purple dress, wearing it confidently. “Would you like to join us?” He waved to the empty chairs at their table. Other cast members had left after a couple drinks. 

She smiled her acceptance, and the scruffy, bearded man she was with joined them. “This is my friend Alexei. He is a painter.” 

“Oh really? What style do you paint in? What subjects do you prefer?” Kurt asked as he sipped his beer.

Alexei smiled at Kurt’s interest, leaning forward. “Landscapes mostly. I am experimenting with light in its changing qualities…”. His hair was a bit long and unkept, but his dark eyes shone with passion for his craft.

Kurt nodded. “So, you follow the Impressionist style then?” 

Looking a little surprised, Alexei nodded. “Are you a painter also? You seem quite familiar with art.” 

“No, no…I’m hopeless at it, I’m afraid. But I lived in Paris for a few years, and knew a few artists there.” Kurt supplied. He loved conversations like this, with creative people. Artists, writers, performers. Living in Greenwich Village reminded him of Montmartre in that way. It was a part of the city where artistic people converged, a relaxed bohemian attitude apparent in so many places. His landlady loved it, often giving cheaper rents to people she found interesting. Kurt wouldn’t be surprised if Alexei ended up in of one the apartments in his building soon. 

Mrs. Petrov leaned closer to rub Kurt’s arm. “Where is your filmmaker friend tonight?” 

Kurt chuckled to himself at her description. Blaine had come out with Kurt to a few bars and restaurants in his neighbourhood, and he had told people he was trying to be a filmmaker when they asked what his job was. He didn’t want to look out of place by saying he owned a hotel. 

“He doesn’t live in the Village, so I don’t know where he is tonight.” Kurt smiled back at her. Blaine was probably at some function with Kitty, acting like her fiancé practically. 

She shook her head at him. “Should you really let such a handsome man run around on his own?” She topped off her comment with a wink to Kurt.

Little comments like this from her made Kurt pretty sure she knew Blaine was his boyfriend, and was accepting of it. When she had first said something like that, Kurt had been shocked, but she did it often enough that he just nodded and smiled back. It was good to have a feeling of acceptance from a few people. 

“Mrs. Petrov, I may have to give you my notice soon, I’m afraid.” Kurt said, taking this opportunity of chatting with her to check into this. 

Her eyes widened. “Oh my. Why is that? You don’t like the apartment? Don’t like me?” She pouted slightly, always a little dramatic in her responses.

Reaching over, Kurt squeezed her hand. “Of course not. I love the building and love you too. But I may have to travel more for work soon, and it wouldn’t make sense to keep an apartment here if that’s the case.” 

“Oh, my dear boy, that is so sad! You are so talented, surely something else will come up.” Mrs. Petrov looked truly upset at the idea of Kurt going. 

Kurt nodding, looking at her and then the other friends sitting nearby. He had met some great people in New York. People he was going to miss. Could he really go back to Vaudeville and be happy with it? Or take Mr. Chapman’s offer, going on that risky, unknown but exciting path? 

\---

Kurt looked over his closet with a sinking heart. Over the past year, he had collected more than he thought. There were too many items to fit into the two suitcases he had open on his bed. It was always hard to give up good pieces of clothing, but it was time to carefully look at each piece and decide. 

The rest of the apartment wasn’t as hard. It was a furnished apartment, so he only had purchased a few things for the kitchen that weren’t supplied. Things he wouldn’t need if he was travelling a lot. They would all just stay here. He had already given away some books he’d read, and packed up the rest. 

The play had ended last week, and Kurt had been out, day after day, looking for other work, but coming up with nothing. He was tired of searching for work, spending so much time doing it. 

There was a knock at the door, and Kurt was surprised. He didn’t have plans with anyone. 

Opening the door, it was Blaine, looking very handsome in a dark blue suit with a subtle pinstripe. “Hello.” 

“Hi Blaine.” Kurt smiled, stepping back to let him in.

Blaine gave Kurt a smile, before coming closer and kissing Kurt hello. His hands cupped Kurt’s head, making sure the kiss was long and thorough. 

"Come on, let's get you dressed up. I'm taking you out for dinner." Blaine smiled, and tugged Kurt into his bedroom. 

Blaine stopped short, looking down at the open suitcases. "What is happening here, Kurt? Are you going back to Ohio for a visit?" 

Kurt considered nodding, and saying that was it. But this was Blaine. No matter how much they had grown apart, he deserved the truth. "I'm finding it hard to find steady work, so I'm thinking of going back on the circuit again." He didn't mention the other possibility. No point worrying him. 

Looking at Kurt for a few moments, his eyes searching, Blaine seemed to slump a little. "Oh, I see. Are you still OK to go to dinner tonight? I should have asked you in advance." 

Kurt stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist to give him a half-hug. "Of course it's OK. Just give me a minute." 

Looking a little thrown, Blaine stepped back into the living room, and Kurt quickly changed into a nice suit. 

Blaine was looking through a stack of books on the table. 

"Oh, thanks for reminding me. Those are books you lent me I wanted to get back to you." Kurt said briskly, slipping his shoes on. 

Blaine stepped closer. "They were for you to keep, Kurt." 

Kurt gave a bright smile back, trying to keep it together. "Well, I need to travel light, and I've read them already..." 

"Ok, I see. I'll take them with me later." Blaine said softly as they walked out. 

Blaine had been in the area enough to know the restaurants, and they went for a good meal. Conversation was a little stilted, as Kurt was feeling mixed emotions as always. Being with Blaine was good, but hearing about the hotel, and his friends, seemed like a whole different world. One Kurt would never be a part of. 

It was a feeling Kurt knew wouldn't change, and he couldn't survive on these scraps of attention and togetherness. It made it more painful with every time Blaine left. It was like the sun shone brightly when Blaine was around, and when he left; everything else in Kurt's life was dull and dismal. After months and months of this, Kurt was feeling worn out. Between that and the stress of job searching, he felt spread thin. 

Blaine could tell Kurt was in a maudlin mood, and he sent many concerned looks his way. Kurt could tell his decision was hurting Blaine too, and it made it even harder. 

After dinner, Blaine asked if they could go for a walk. Kurt agreed, still greedy for any time with Blaine. He gotten fairly familiar with his neighborhood, liked its mix of people. 

Blaine stopped, and looked down at Kurt with a strange expression. "Kurt, would you come look at something with me?" 

Furrowing his brow slightly, Kurt nodded slowly. Blaine had been in an odd mood tonight too, seemed a little tense. 

Blaine gave a little smile at Kurt's response, and ushered him into an apartment building. They went up two flights, and Kurt expected him to knock on a door. 

Instead, he pulled out a key and unlocked a door. Encouraged Kurt to step in first. 

Kurt went into the empty apartment and turned the light on. It was a good size, and the windows overlooked the river. He turned to Blaine, a questioning expression on his face. 

Blaine shut the door, and stepped close to Kurt, looking nervous. "I did this before I knew of your plans to go back to Vaudeville. I will just say my idea, and I'll leave it to you to decide. I just want you to choose what will make you happiest." 

Kurt's eyes were enormous, so curious about what Blaine was saying. His heart was thumping and he had to concentrate to breathe. 

Waving a hand around, Blaine gave a small smile. "I rented this for us, Kurt. It's a two bedroom apartment and we can look like roommates, trying to afford living in New York, to the outside world." 

Stepping closer, Blaine took Kurt's hands. "I just can't bear living apart from you any longer, Kurt. I can feel us growing apart, busy in our daily lives, and it makes me so sad. I want to be there every day when you wake up, eat breakfast together, spend the evenings out with you or just here, reading and cuddling. I don't want a few stolen moments here or there. I want to share our lives." 

The words made Kurt rock on his heels. It was what he wanted too, since they had been on the Titanic. 

"But what about the hotel and your life there?" Kurt asked, still amazed by this whole idea. 

Blaine let go of Kurt's hands, walking over to the window. "The hotel was my father's dream, never mine. I don't care about it at all. These past few months have proven that Jeff and Nick are very capable managers of it. Profits are even up from when my father ran it. I'm going to leave it to their management." 

"But what about Kitty and your mother? What will they say about you living here?" Kurt was beginning to feel hopeful, in a way he hadn't dared to before. 

Blaine shrugged. "Kitty will be going to her country estate quite often, now that it's spring. She has missed her stable boy. And my mother is doing fine. She has her own money and the life insurance funds from my father. She is talking about getting a place on the Upper West Side, to be closer to her friends. I think she wants to be away from the hotel and things that remind her so much of father." 

Kurt was just shaking his head. "So, you are basically giving up your fancy life to come live in the slums with me? I don't know, Blaine. Will you be happy?" 

Walking quickly back to Kurt, Blaine took him in his arms for a deep kiss that left Kurt feeling a little dazed. "I realized that I am happiest when I'm with you. Those times we just went out to a local pub here and hung out with your friends, or at your apartment. I'd go to fancy parties with Kitty, full of stuffy, boring people, and silently wish I could be with you." 

Kurt smiled, putting a hand on the side of Blaine's face. "But what will you do then, if you aren't working at the hotel?" 

Blaine's eyes gleamed in excitement. "I met a man who used to work at Edison's movie studio out in the Bronx, and he is starting a small studio out here, in the village. He's willing to take me on and train me." 

Seeing Blaine looking so excited and happy made Kurt feel good, and he hugged Blaine hard. It was almost too much to take in. Blaine basically giving up his old life to live and work down here? 

"Blaine, that sounds really great, but it's such a big change for you. Do you really think this will work?" Kurt had to ask, forever the realist. 

Blaine's face dropped slightly, but then he shook his head, and smiled. "It feels right, Kurt. My whole life, I've done what I should, what was expected of me. And I've had a pretty good life. But for the first time in my life, I'm making my own choices about my future and it's scary and risky, but it feels right." 

Kurt felt a surge of emotion for this man, and loved him more than ever. He was being so brave. 

Taking Kurt's hands in his, Blaine looked a little unsure of himself. "Kurt, I know I made these plans without consulting you, not knowing you were making your own plans to go back to Vaudeville. But is there any way you could hold off on that, and give us a chance? Live here with me and see if we can be happy this way?" 

Kurt's smile was large and happy. "This reminds me of that night on the Titanic, when you asked me to give us a chance. A year and a day." 

"That's why I came over to take you to dinner, ...Today is April 15th, Kurt. It has been a year and a day since we were handfast. Do you want to stay with me or go your own way? You know I want to stay together." Blaine said softly, his expression hopeful but still unsure of Kurt's answer. He had seen the suitcases in Kurt's apartment earlier, after all. "Or would you like to handfast again, give me another year and a day?" 

Blaine reached into his pocket, pulling out the floral, silk scarf. 

Kurt gasped at seeing it. "You still carry it with you?" 

"Of course I do, Kurt. It's the most precious thing I own." Blaine said softly, and reached a hand out to cup Kurt's face, brushing his thumb over his soft cheek. "I'm sorry this past year has been so hard. We were both trying to figure out our lives, trying to be together, and it wasn't working that well. I know now that we need to make a bigger change to really be together, and it will be easier for me to live here with you, than you to live with me uptown." 

"It's still a risk, Blaine. People may still suspect about two men living together." Kurt said softly. It was a scary but exciting idea. 

Blaine shrugged. "Well, then we'll run off and join the Vaudeville circuit. I just know I can't bear to be away from you anymore, Kurt. Please say you'll give us a chance." 

Kurt nodded, his eyes filling up with happy tears. "Yes, yes, yes Blaine. Yes, I'll live here with you. Yes, I'll give us a chance. Yes, I love you so much." 

They crashed together, kissing hard and urgently. 

Kurt pulled back, looking around the empty apartment. "Hmmm...I'd love to christen our new apartment right now, but I really want a comfortable bed to properly make love to you for a few hours." 

Chuckling, Blaine pulled his clothes back in place and held out his hand. "Your old apartment is only a few blocks away." 

Kurt took it, and they raced there, getting a few raised eyebrows as they ran past. 

\--- 

"Do you have a job now that the play is over, Kurt?" Blaine asked sleepily, running a lazy hand over Kurt's chest. He'd never get enough of touching Kurt's skin. 

Stretching contentedly, Kurt shook his head. "No, I've done auditions and looked around but nothing was coming up. That's why I was considering Vaudeville again." 

Blaine nodded. "Well, how about we take a week to move to the new apartment, getting it set up just the way we want it." 

Considering it, Kurt gave a slow nod. "This apartment is furnished, so I don't have anything but a few suitcases of things." 

"We will need to get furniture for the new place but it can't be too fancy. We will need to make it so if friends come over, they will think we are two struggling artists, living together to cover the bills." Blaine circled a finger around Kurt's nipple, liking how it tightened in response to his touch. 

Kurt pressed his lips together. "We can get some second hand furniture, make it look good. But I don't have much money right now and I don't want you paying for everything." 

Blaine understood his point. "I'm going to put the money I get from the hotel in a special savings account. I'd like it if we basically lived on the money we make, splitting the bills 50/50. But if we need something more, or just a night out as a splurge, we can dip into the hotel money. In a way, the hotel money is a gift from my father, not something I earned myself. I think the money for the furniture and getting established here can come from that account." 

Kurt nodded. "That sounds fair." 

Blaine leaned close to steal a kiss. "And after we are all moved in, would you like to take a week off and go to the cabin? We could relax and reconnect, and then we come back, we'd move into our new place." 

"Oh yes... I love going to the cabin. That sounds perfect." Kurt hugged Blaine tight, still amazed at how much different his life was in just a day. He loved the idea of selecting furniture together for the apartment, decorating it and making to their own. Moving their things in together, sharing their books. Getting everything just right. 

"But let's not sleep in the new place until we get back from the cabin, OK?" Kurt asked softly, looking down at Blaine's mossy hazel eyes. 

Blaine kissed him thoroughly. "I'll carry you over the threshold, if you'll let me." 

"Or maybe I should carry you?" Kurt smirked back. 

Blaine cuddled close, smiling, and they talked long into the night about their plans. 

\--- 

"Get up, sleepyhead." Kurt nudged Blaine. 

Blaine groaned and cuddled closer. "Just ten more minutes." This was his favorite thing, he had decided. After seven nights in the cabin and two nights in their apartment, he knew for sure he never wanted to sleep anywhere else but beside Kurt. 

The cabin trip had been perfect. There were still patches of snow on the ground, but it was mostly sunny during the day. At night, it still cooled off and they cuddled up by the fireplace. They had such a good time they promised to come for holidays at least two times a year. Just a week of quiet and enjoying each other's company. 

Kurt sat up, stretching. Blaine looked over his body, admiring the marks he'd made here and there on that pale skin. Felt the urge to make more. 

"Blaine!" Kurt laughed when Blaine pinned him down and kissed him hard, then worked his way down Kurt's neck where he was very sensitive. "You have to get up for work." 

Kurt may have been saying that, but his body was responding beautifully to Blaine's touch, and he gasped when Blaine stroked over his erection. He would never tire of this, seeing Kurt shudder in pleasure at his touch, and as Blaine kissed down his stomach, the way his body arched in a wordless plea. 

Blaine happily pleasured his husband, using his mouth, lips and hands to bring out his quiet groans. Loving watching him in the soft morning light in their bed, naked, hair a mess, totally his Kurt. Loved seeing the heat in his eyes as he pushed his hands into Blaine's hair, nearing his peak. He stroked himself as Kurt came, so aroused already that it didn't take long until he shuddered in release. 

Knowing he was really going to have to rush now, Blaine dropped a kiss on Kurt's lips before hopping out of bed. He got ready fast, and smiled when Kurt passed him a black, metal lunch pail. 

"You are a working man now. We can't afford to eat out as much. I packed you some fruit and sandwiches." Kurt shrugged, looking a little shy. 

Blaine was delighted. He loved that Kurt had said 'we', and had done this to take care of him. They were going to live like this, simply, and showing their love wasn't going to be big expensive gestures. It was going to be small actions like this that showed their love and consideration for each other. 

"You are the best husband ever. I'm going to give you a long massage tonight, OK?" Blaine hugged Kurt, smiling broadly. 

Leaning in so their foreheads touched, Kurt smiled. "You know I'll never say no to a massage. See you tonight." He kissed him briefly, and pushed Blaine towards the door when he tried to deepen it. 

Blaine walked briskly over to the studio, liking the feel of the city waking up and getting busy. 

The studio was a simple, small warehouse space. Martin was already there, moving some things around on the set. 

"Good morning, Blaine." He looked around at the mocked up room. "When you get your coat off, could you help me move this sofa?" 

Blaine hung up his coat and stashed his lunch away. Martin directed him to move the sofa against a different wall, and they did some other changes to the set. 

The day went fast, and Blaine liked working with Martin. It seemed like they would have days of writing scrips, preparing the sets and costumes, and only bringing in actors on the filming days. Being such a small company, Blaine did a variety of jobs, whatever was needed, and liked that Martin frequently asked his opinion on things. 

Getting home, Blaine could smell a wonderful beef stew and his stomach rumbled in appreciation. He found Kurt, sprawled out in the sofa, napping under a blanket, and took a minute to take in his handsome face. He looked happy and well rested, and Blaine felt a sense of contentment at that. 

Leaning down, he kissed Kurt gently, keeping it up until he felt Kurt stir under him. And then smiled against his lips when Kurt wrapped his arms around him. 

Scooting onto the sofa to lie beside Kurt, Blaine laid his head on his chest. "How did your day go?" 

"Pretty good. I did an audition for a part that didn't suit me too well, but ran into Marcus. We went for coffee and he says a friend of his is directing something I should try out for." Kurt said, playing with Blaine's curls. 

Blaine glanced up to smile encouragingly at Kurt. "That sounds promising. And it smells like you already made dinner. Remember that I want cooking lessons. I want to do my part around here." 

Kurt gave him a squeeze. "You can be in charge of cleaning up until you learn to cook." 

"Sounds good." Blaine snuggled into Kurt, just loving this. But then a thought hit him. 

"Um, Kurt...." He sat up, looking down at the man who meant so much to him. "When we were here a couple weeks ago, and I asked you to live with me...." 

Kurt could see Blaine was having a hard time getting out what he was trying to say, and sat up to look him in the eyes, giving his full attention. "Yes, I remember..." He gave a small encouraging smile. 

"It just occurred to me that you never really answered my question about being handfast. It's past a year and a day now, and you are still here. But I'm wondering if this is another year and a day trial period, while we see if living together works or not, or...or...is this forever, you and me?" Blaine looked a little flustered and unsure of himself, his large hazel eyes searching Kurt's. 

Kurt's heart went out to this dear, wonderful man. "You have changed your whole life to be with me, Blaine. I don't take that lightly. I'm in this forever." 

"You changed your life too, Kurt, moving to New York and working as a stage actor." Blaine hugged Kurt tight. "Forever, then. The two of us." 

"Forever and a day." Kurt said with a smile, and moved closer to kiss his husband.

\---

\- Disclaimer: I own nothing.

\- German translation: _“Wann fährt der nächste Zug?”_ = When is the next train?

A/N: So, that's the end of this Alternative Ending to 'A Drop in The Ocean' I hope you have enjoyed it. I had a good time exploring what their lives would be like in 1912/1913 New York. Amazing to think that radios, televisions, record players and airplanes were just starting to be developed, hardly part of most people's lives. I kept almost referencing things that weren't around yet, like the Everard Bath being a couple blocks south of the Empire State Building. But that building wasn't built until the 1930's. 

I have in mind at least one other alternative ending for the story, so watch for another part to this series in the future. Thanks for reading!


End file.
